


Q-CORDIS

by uwa-so-frisk (disillusionist9)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Frisk And Reader Are Related, Frisk Uses Sign Language, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Multiple Timelines, Non-Binary Chara, Non-Binary Frisk, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Female Character, Puns & Word Play, Rating May Change, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, References to Undertale Genocide Route, Selectively Mute Frisk, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Underground (Undertale), Undertale Pacifist Route, get ready for a very long ride, my guys this is gonna be a long fic i'm telling you right now, time magic shenanigans, updates weekly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-01-27 09:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 76,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/uwa-so-frisk
Summary: A mysterious feeling drags your twin Frisk towards Mount Ebott - with you not far behind.You find yourself trapped beneath the mountain and are faced with a race of people long-forgotten by Humanity. Monsters. But, despite the name of their race, they aren't truly monstrous. Soon you feel the need to free all those who are trapped, regardless of the trials they have given you. On top off it all, your twin sibling Frisk seems to be troubled, and holding secrets from you. Will you find a way to free those trapped Underground? Will you be able to free Frisk and yourself? Will you ever have the happiness of a family that you both lost so long ago?Read, and find out where in this story you will go.





	1. Once Upon a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check endnotes for specific warnings regarding each chapter.
> 
> Set 10 years into the future of original canon, this story follows two teenagers who fall into the Underground, befriending monsters along the way. Tags will be added as characters and plot points are introduced to reduce spoilers and baiting as much as possible. Rating reflects future events and references to sensitive subjects and is also subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

“Frisk! Frisk where are you?”

Your voice echoes against the thick tree trunks surrounding you. Straining, you listen for the rustling of leaves or fall of footsteps that might give you a clue to their location, but all you hear is the chittering of insects and calls of nocturnal creatures.

“Frisk!” you call out. Creatures fall silent at the noise and the wind mocks you as it whistles through the treetops.

Your lungs are on fire. The burning dryness in your throat makes you wish you’d brought a water bottle from camp but those were locked away in the van so nothing could get to them in the night. You _knew_ this trip was a terrible idea from the get-go, bringing a gaggle of teenagers who’d never left the city up into the foothills for “some fresh air and exercise”, some kind of bonding experience to placate your foster parents and the agency. As you alternate walking and jogging through trees without a defined path your leg muscles cramp and protest to more hiking after a full day of it.

Spring in the mountains could be deceptively warm during the day but at night the temperatures dropped past the point of safety. That winter had been wet and brutal after a long drought in the state, and piles of snow lingered here in the forest, impeding your search. Stones, roots, animal dens, and downed branches underfoot slow your progress. Breaks in the canopy show the winking brilliance of millions of stars framed in an inky sky. You can’t tell if they’re laughing at you or urging you forward

Fear rises hot and nauseating in your gut the longer it takes to find them. Even in full noon sunlight, Frisk can barely see a few feet in front of them, and their hearing is even worse. Did they bring their hearing aids? What about their glasses? They have a stubborn habit of purposefully losing both to the endless exasperation of your long string of caregivers. Since your parent’s passing you had watched out for Frisk which means you usually take the brunt of punishment in their stead. They hate when others treat them like glass because of their sight and hearing impairments but were _particularly_ bothered when you did. It didn’t stop you from protecting them. Frisk is the only person you had left of your family, you would do anything for them.

Including getting hopelessly lost in the forest at night where there were probably at least a dozen bears ready to eat you.

A migraine that bloomed the moment the camping caravan was in sight of Mt. Ebott and since sunk it’s claws firmly into your brain threatens to halt you, and you lean into the nearest trunk to bend over and dry heave. The smooth texture of the bark makes you lose your grip. You fall to your hands and knees into the sludgy mix of half-frozen mud and decayed leaves at the base. Gasping for breath against the surprise and pain, you count backwards from twenty to regain your focus.

Tiny branches caught in your hair prick your scalp and burrs work their way deeper into your clothes along your arms, legs, and stomach. Somehow your hair is still in the ponytail you went to bed in. With the sharpness of pain in your head it feels like you can make out the individual thorns digging into your skin. Eyes squeezed shut to fight a rise of nausea, you can hear the rhythmic thudding of footsteps up ahead, the crunching of snow further up the mountain.

Instead of shouting like before, something the pounding of your migraine refused that you do, you push yourself to your feet, dark splotches on your jeans and sleeves where the cold muck underfoot seeped into them. The dirty sneakers on your feet couldn’t get a grip at first but soon you were pushing through the underbrush and trees, following the sound of Frisk plodding through the dense forest.

The pain in your head forces you to slow again. You heave and your meager dinner rushes back up and out. You are glad for the shadowed darkness so you can’t see what you’d just left on the forest floor. Panting for breath you force yourself to press on. Why hadn’t you grabbed a flare gun? A coat? Or a flashlight? You’d barely made time to change from sleep pants to jeans. You had your phone in your pocket but up here you didn’t get service and by now it was probably dead, anyway.

“Frisk, wait!”

Without warning, you surge through a tight gap between two fir trees and almost fall over again when there wasn’t another line of trees to stop your momentum. A small clearing with dew-soaked grass and thick underbrush opens before you. Several yards away, Frisk stands with their back to you and their face skyward.

Wind rips through the clearing more violently than it could in the protection of the trunks and branches you’d fought through. Their hair whips around their head and the hem of the shirt they wore to bed billows everywhere, exposing their back and stomach to the cold night air. Frisk’s arms are out at their sides like a tightrope walker as they slowly move through the tall grass and bushes. A backpack rests high on their shoulders and you pray there’s something inside to help you get back to the others or even heavier sweaters than what you both had now in case you needed to weather out the night in the wilderness. You try to call their name again but it’s all too much, your voice a whisper. Impossibly, over the rush of wind and their own diminished hearing, Frisk turns towards you at the attempt to call out.

Eyes wide and face slack, they stare in your direction unblinking and unmoving. You’re reminded of the herd of deer your foster family witnessed grazing off the mountain path earlier that morning. With their ears pricked up and large black eyes wary, they’d watched your group for a breathless second. They darted away when one of the younger kids gasped in surprise, tumbling through the forest quicker than you could follow. Moving delicately from the fatigue in your limbs and the wariness of startling Frisk, you make your way through the overgrowth one step at a time, focused solely on reaching them then somehow finding your way back to camp.

“Can you hear me, Frisk?” you whisper. Despite their earlier reaction to the soft sound they stood unchanged. You continued speaking anyway in case they could make out the sound of your voice and move toward you. “We need to go back to camp. Look, it’s freezing out here and...and you’re shivering! Shit, do you have something in your backpack to put on?”

Your hand grabs the one they have outstretched closest to you. Expecting it to be easy to start pulling back the general direction you remembered coming from, when their hand twists and grabs your wrist you aren’t ready.

“Okay, it’s okay, Frisk, it’s me! It’s ________.” You’re not sure if your whisper is powerful enough to go over the wind to reach them even at this proximity so you lift your other hand and move it close to their face to sign their name to try and get their attention.

The grip is starting to get painful but you’re too relieved at finding them to notice. Slices of white hot pain are running through your head from the migraine as it is and smaller doses of pain are insignificant in comparison. There’s no response from your attempt at ASL. As much as you hurt and as tired as you are, you know you need to find cover. The wind here is too strong to stay in the whole night and it would be safer to maybe find a tree to climb or at least some sort of shelter in the trees while you wait for dawn. You’re prepared to stay up all night watch to protect Frisk.

Fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh of your wrist hard enough for you to cry out and close your eyes, tears pricking at the edges. There’s no give when you try to wrench your arm out of their hold, their other hand flying down to grab the hand you’d used to sign in front of their face.

“Frisk! What the hell! What are you doing? Let go of me -- _what the fuck!”_

As you struggle your shoes slip on a patch of ice beneath rotten leaves, dragging Frisk down with you when they refuse to let go, staring at you with unseeing eyes, pupils blown wide. The pain in your head makes you want to vomit again. It’s never been this bad before. You try to regain your balance but without the use of your arms it’s futile and makes the bottom drop out of your stomach as you fall backward...and keep falling, falling _falling f a l l i n g    f  a  l  l  i  n  g_  -

**_Stop_ ** **.**

…

 

. . .

 

. . . . . . . .

 

_“. . .A s r i e l. . .”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Hello! Welcome! Happy Halloween! 
> 
> To those of you who may recognize the title of this story, I originally posted one of the same name on September 15th, 2017, taking it down in October 23rd, 2017 since I jumped into the deep end without clear sight of what I wanted with this narrative. Now this version comes with outlines! Pre-planning! Character development! Effort! AND CHANGES IN PLOT for those of you you _might_ have read the first version. Let's go on an adventure together into xReader Land, shall we? I welcome your comments and questions here or on tumblr, and I want you to have as much fun reading this as I do writing it. 
> 
> **The notes at the end of each chapter will house any warnings I think are relevant for each chapter. This way if you don't want spoilers for what's ahead you won't see them but if you're wary of triggers they will be there for you.** AO3 author [ Rehlia ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehlia/pseuds/Rehlia) uses this in their completely amazing story [ These are our Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244671/chapters/16447825) and I think it works really well.
> 
> An especially warm thank you to my friend [dulce-de-leche-go](http://dulce-de-leche-go.tumblr.com/) who has been an invaluable asset to keeping me sane (mostly) and my interest in this story alive.
> 
> **Potential trigger warnings** : mentions of vomiting, descriptions of being lost and alone in the woods


	2. Fallen Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

It hurts. 

Everything hurts. 

_ Everything _ hurts and you feel cheated that death is this painful. 

There’s too much pain to think about what you regret but you are dimly aware that you have many. Seventeen is an awfully young age to die at the bottom of a cave in the Rocky Mountains.

Most of the agony centers in an ache deep in your chest, like a weight against your lungs, a ton of bricks holding you down by the ribs without mercy. Pushing down. Pulling you into the ground beneath you. 

Were you facing up now?  Had you been face down? You can’t tell which way is up anymore. 

The feeling of light against your eyelids has you sucking in a breath against the pressure in your ribs and you feel your body spasm with coughing, your senses dull and delayed, as if you’re watching this horror happen to someone else. 

Is this the beginning of the end, the gentle green sea above a raging deep? 

Something soft touches your face. It feels like fingers brushing the hair away from your mouth, nose, and eyes. The difference between the sharpness inside of you and the gentleness of those hands sets your head spinning. You struggle to focus on what’s happening on the outside of your body rather than the turmoil within. There’s no concept of how much time passes but you feel sluggish, burdened, and the process of disassociating with the pain feels intensely physical.

Another spasm rockets through you and grounds you to the physical pain like a lifeline. Your brain catches up to the moment. You’re willingly following the soft pull of something bright, white, warm, comforting and the embodiment of everything you’d assumed death would feel like. So if the pain is what you have to use to keep you here, so be it. You’re not ready to die. Not here, not now, not like this it isn’t FAIR.

Where’s Frisk? You can’t leave them! What if they’re alive, too? The idea they could still be alive fills you with determination. 

This is agony, it’s torment, it’s pain worse than anything you could have imagined, but you cling onto it before the rope of consciousness can slip through your fingers forever.

The white light starts pulling harder against your grip on reality and you do everything you can to sink into what you think is reality. Reality is the blood and broken pieces of yourself at the bottom of this cave to hell. 

Panic.

You’re able to hold on for a few moments longer until something snaps. Dimly, you’re aware of your head throwing itself back and your mouth opening in a scream. You can’t feel it.

You can’t feel anything. You feel everything.

Darkness swallows you whole.

Someone calls your name. You don’t think it’s the first time.

In a snap, your eyes open wide and you suck in the deepest lungful of air you ever remember breathing, choking on it in your enthusiasm.

A flurry of hands appears in front of your face as you gasp like a fish on land. Belatedly your brain tells you those hands were on your shoulders before and shaking you. Frisk. Relief floods you and spills out at tears down your cheeks as you struggle to breathe through the coughing fit. You try to lift one of your arms to take their hands in yours, make sure they’re real and that no, you aren’t dead. Or you are and so are they? You have to know and the physical touch will help ground you.

“Frisk?” 

God, that hurts. Your throat feels like hamburger.

They look like shit; there’s no other word for it. You doubt you look much better. A crusty patch of what you assume to be blood coats part of their cheek. Some flakes away as their lips stretch in a smile. There’s not a cut anywhere you can see to explain the blood. Holding your breath, afraid it’s not real, you lift your hands and rest them against their cheeks. After a moment’s hesitation you use one of your thumbs to rub away the blood, drowning in the wave of relief threatening to force tears from your eyes. Their face is close to yours, close enough for their hair to tickle your cheeks and nose, their eyes darting back and forth as they look for an undetermined something. Whatever they see satisfies them enough to back up a bit.

Words fly fast and almost unintelligible from their fingers which is hard for you to follow in your prone position. You catch  _ don’t move _ and  _ right back _ out of the hand gymnastics they perform as they crouch over you. When they move away, your vision opens up to a great yawning cavern stretching above, an enormous hollow column climbing higher and higher until it breaks to a bright disc. Sunlight. You grit your teeth then try to swallow and release the tension. You’d  _ fallen _ from that. It had to be ten, no,  _ twelve _ stories above your heads. Unhelpfully, your memory pulls up images you’d filed away while preparing for a PSAT, equations that make your stomach turn. Velocity, force, acceleration... _ you should not be alive. _

You shove the numbers and images away from you, crawling out of your own head like a zombie from a grave and try to use the world around you to assure yourself that miraculously you were alive and so was Frisk so who were you to question that? 

There’s something springy supporting you. Your hands fall back to your sides, the monumental effort of moving them up to Frisk’s face sending tremors along your arms, and run them over something as soft and tangible as heavy crushed velvet. It feels like hundreds of delicate petals and flower stems under your fingers. Taking stock of yourself, you can feel your tennis shoes still on your feet your legs are still covered by the jeans you’d grabbed off the top of your duffel bag. It’s your favorite pair, and you almost giggle from the absurdity over worrying if they were ruined now or not. There are far more important things to consider.

Nothing feels broken and you lay there in disbelief. All the pain earlier...did you imagine it? It doesn’t seem probable and you sort of remember landing heavily on your shoulders, and something snapping inside of you. Yet here you lay, able to move all your fingers and toes.  Impossibly gold flowers and vibrant green leaves and stems surround you. Tendrils of vines and roots blur in the dark smudges of earth that make up the walls. Your muscles protest but you manage to move your head to the side to follow Frisk as they move out of your vision. Frisk dips a hand into the backpack you remember resting on their shoulders when you found them in the clearing.

The thought brings your eyes back up towards the deceptively small ring of light from above. At first glance you’d seen the bright white light of high noon, but you realized with the angle of the mountain and the inability to tell how much time had passed, you had no idea where it lay in the sky. Was there a search party looking for you? How long were you out? Did you have a concussion? Oh, god, you don’t want to fall back asleep, not until someone finds you!

Your elbows dig into the flowerbed beneath you as you force yourself upright. Ugh. Vertigo. Lovely.

A choked sound to your left tells you Frisk noticed your movement. Your twin scoots over the flowers and you watch as the blossoms spring back to their original places as soon as they pass over, as if they’d never been disturbed at all. 

The sharp smell of alcohol surprises you as Frisk rips open a small paper square. A glance into the backpack they’d dragged over with them shows you the first aid kid your foster parents brought along on this trip. An opened water bottle is pushed into your hand and you drink from it greedily. Your brain is foggy and slow on the uptake but there’s one word you can muster.

“Why?”

Frisk doesn’t look at you, just pushes up the sleeve of your sweater and keeps running the alcohol towelette over your arms to clean away dirt and look for bruises and cuts. Their blunt bangs, bright streaks of poorly dyed blue shot through them, hang over their eyes. You can’t see any little plastic and wire bits over the shell of their ear. No hearing aids, then, or glasses either. But they hadn’t had any trouble hearing you get up so they were bluffing, or stalling, and you couldn’t make up your mind whether to be more angry or worried about that.

“Frisk, why do you have the first aid kit?”

A few more passes with a new towelette, this time up towards your neck, before you grab it from their hands and start cleaning yourself up instead.

This frees their hands to fidget in their lap. They pick at one of the rips in their flannel pajama pants before lifting both to speak.

_ I knew we could get hurt. _

They stop and look at you expectantly, as if that would solve everything. You stare back without yielding. Frisk could be stubborn about anything and everything, so when they relented a little more you were surprised you didn’t have to wait longer than a few seconds. Most of the time the two of you would butt heads for ages before someone gave in. Usually you did, but this was more serious than any other time you’d argued.

_ Didn’t you feel it? The mountain? It’s alive down here. I heard someone calling our names. _

“That’s a load of shit,” you say, cutting them off. Your throat still feels sore, it’s difficult to speak, but the water had helped and as much as your throat hurt your hands surpassed it. Signing to communicate wasn’t an option yet. You cover your worry with anger, your quick temper getting the better of you. “It’s a mountain, it can’t speak.”

Frisk huffs in annoyance and signs even faster.  _ I knew you wouldn’t believe me, so I didn’t tell you before! There was someone calling my name and I had to find out who it was and where it was coming from- _

“That doesn’t mean you should run away from camp, alone, in the middle of the night out into the goddamned wilderness! What did you think would happen, Frisk? Look where we are! We are at the bottom of some sort of...pit or cave! We fell so far we should be -” No, don’t think about that. “Ugh, I don’t understand. You’re right. I don’t believe you. Did one of those jackasses try to mess with you again, slip you drugs or something?”

_ What? No! _

“Then what made you think this was a good idea? Shit, Karen and Greg are probably furious and by now they probably called a search party.”

_ Stop yelling at me! You act like you’re right all the time, but you’re not!  _ There are hot, angry tears running down Frisk’s face but neither of you back down. 

This reminds you of the fights you had at the first foster home six years ago. You always had to step up and be the adult! Frisk was acting like a child. The throbbing in your head you suspect is a concussion makes you dizzy but you push through, a rant to end all rants boiling inside of you.

“You never think of the consequences! You never think ahead!”

_ And you’re too afraid to try anything! _

Your jaw clicks with the force of closing your mouth, the words stunning you for a moment. Frisk doesn’t show a shred of remorse for what they said and you feel the truth in the words cutting into you like a knife. It does nothing to assuage your temper, only aggravates it.

“At least I’m not the one who got us into this mess.”

_ You were the one who followed me _ .

You pound your fists into your thighs. “Oh, my god, you  _ idiot _ of course I did!”

Frisk flinches when you say the word idiot with as much force as your throat will allow, and as infuriated as you are at the entire situation you feel a sliver of satisfaction at the reaction. But as suddenly as your temper flared, regret replaced it with a healthy dose of guilt. As angry as you are, as scared as you feel, you can’t do this. You can’t keep this steam going when it’s directed towards Frisk. They’d never purposefully done anything this reckless before. Pranks, jokes, and suggestions to skip school and go to the mall instead were harmless. This felt heavier than their carefree attitude could carry. 

“When I woke up and you weren’t there,” you start, looking at your fists in your lap instead Frisk’s face, “I was scared. I thought maybe...after what happened at the house the other night-”

Frisk reaches over and grabs your hands for a moment. When you look up their face has softened away from stubbornness to an emotion more delicate. You feel the rug pulled out from under you at the range of emotions you’re flying through after waking up at the bottom of a terrifying pit in the middle of the forest and maybe if you concentrate on how to fix that you won’t think about what that pig Vance tried to do to Frisk and-

_ It’s over. It’s not your fault.  _

“I thought you were running away from me because I couldn’t protect you.”

The words are rocks in your mouth. All of the angry bravado you’d hoped would make the fear go away only makes it worse when you allow it to show. Thinking of the night you’d woken up to the sound of Frisk thrashing in the bed on the other side of the room, ready to help them through another nightmare they couldn’t explain, only to see another person standing over them...Your knuckles still remember the bruises from the punches you drilled into his back, peppering his ribs and spine until he started fighting back. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d defended Frisk from one of the other foster kids but this time felt darker. You were already a light sleeper, borderline insomniac, and to think what could have happened if you’d woken even a minute later? It didn’t bear thinking about.

You should be the one holding Frisk right now, not the other way around. The moment of weakness makes you frustrated with yourself as you cry silent tears of shame. Their hand runs over your head and down your hair, the ponytail from before not surviving the fall. A few times their fingers snag onto leaves or brambles caught in a knot. In the quiet of this embrace your mind wanders to complain about how hard it’s going to be to brush it out. The water bottle you’d forgotten putting down was back in your hands. This time you drained it, though you regretted that immediately afterwards, unsure of how much water you even had between the two of you down here.

“Ugh,” you whine, pushing away from Frisk gently. You push the heels of your palms into your eyes to wipe away the drying streaks of tears and to try and stop the pounding. “I need a tissue.”

Frisk laughed, a creaky sound since it was one of the only ways they used their voice.

Your hands drop from your face back to your lap with a loud slap that startles them. Out of the fog of your head hurting and your subdued panic over how the hell you’d get out of this mess, a spear of clarity shines through, something you could barely remember.

“I heard someone speak when we fell, before I blacked out.”

Their face goes white and their eyes flash before they look away, though it’s too fast for you to be sure.  _ I don’t use my voice, _______ _ . They throw the movements for your name-sign like they’re trying to flick water off their hands, dismissive and curt, offended you’d assumed as much.

“I didn’t say you spoke.”

Frisk realizes their mistake and lifts their shoulders up towards their ears in a wince. 

“That was you? You said...a name, I think?”

_ Can we drop this? _

“Uh, no? I still feel too dizzy to stand up and move yet. I probably have a concussion. And moving away from the place we fell is likely the worst course of action right now. We have plenty of time for you to tell me what you remember after we fell.”

_ A concussion? I think the first aid kit has a pamphlet about those. _

“Frisk, please don’t change the subject.”

The papers in the first aid kit rustle loudly; not loud enough to block out your voice but Frisk seems to use that excuse anyway. You rub your bare arms absently and close your eyes for a second to fight off dizziness and nausea. A few snaps of Frisk’s fingers bring you back to reality.

_ Hey, it lists the symptoms here, can you tell me which ones you feel? _

“Honestly, I’m having trouble reading that,” you say. The little black words blur on the page in front of you where Frisk points. “I’m not letting you off the hook, you know. But, uh, can you sign the list to me and I’ll let you know what I feel?”

With your combined rudimentary medical knowledge, you both agree it’s a concussion. You ask Frisk if they feel any of the same symptoms but they shake their head emphatically.  _ I’m okay, I think. But it’s getting darker here don’t you think we should move? _

“No!” Frisk flinches at your voice, so you force yourself to take a couple calming breaths. “No, we should stay here for a while. Do we have a flare? We could signal for help with that, maybe. Mine’s dead but does your phone have power?”

They lift their phone to show you the very dead screen, no response at all when they push on the lock and power button. It was already cracked before you both had fallen but you saw another spiderweb across the glass on the back.

Another chill runs through you, so you try to stand slowly so you can find a better place to make a sort of camp down here. Dry roots could be used to make a fire, maybe, especially if you remembered anything from girl scouts. You are really rusty on survivalist trivia but there wasn’t another option in sight. Moving to stand sends you back to your knees before Frisk catches you, buffering your fall so you land more gracefully than you would without help.

Black spots dot your vision and nausea makes it hard to breathe for a second. You’re dimly aware of them shaking your shoulders, gentle at first but harder when they don’t get a response from you.

Standing up was a bad idea. The worst. Why did you do that? It doesn’t seem important. You just need everyone to be quiet. Sleep is the only thing you need.

You fall into the waiting arms of darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : descriptions of pain and physical injury trauma including concussions, broken bones, and fainting.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read this so far! And left kudos! And commented! 
> 
> Please note that I am doing research for this fic but there are some things I won't be the most knowledgeable on, specifically how the foster system works in the United States. If I get something egregiously wrong please accept my blanket apology and admission I am stretching the truth.
> 
> But c'mon guys it's fanfiction give a lass a break.


	3. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).
> 
> Ohhhh my god you guys there is [ fanart for the first two chapters! ](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/post/167101153256/rainbow-sin-queen-this-is-for-a-fanfic-ive) A MILLION THANK YOUS ILU

A warm, buttery smell gently nudges you awake, followed by a sharp and clean scent that reminds you of the mulled wine Karen drinks during the holidays. Thick blankets cover you past your ears and you snuggle further into crisp sheets, breathing in the sweet smells as you beg off getting out of bed for just a few more minutes. Everything is warm and peaceful and you’d hate to ruin the moment by waking up and going downstairs with the rest of the children living in this house.

You’re always slow to wake up, a side-effect of never wanting to fall asleep in the first place. It takes another few minutes for you to realize that no, it’s not Christmas morning, it’s the middle of April and you’re sleeping in a bed you don’t recognize in a room that’s far too clean to belong to you and Frisk. This bed is also far too comfortable to be your sleeping bag in a tent in the woods.

Panic freezes you for a moment as your eyes adjust to the low light. The room is small, and there’s a cot on the wall opposite of the bed you’re snuggled in. A single lamp illuminates the room in a far corner, casting shadows over a bookcase, tall dresser, and a few potted plants. No windows break up the wood paneling along the walls.

A search party must have found you after you passed out again. It’s odd, then, to wake up in such a homey space instead of a hospital. The ambient noises from machines and nurse’s stations you expect are missing, too, and instead of antiseptic and despair, that fragrant combination of cinnamon and butterscotch permeates every breath you take. One of the nurses either wore strong perfume or your room was close to a kitchen.

“Frisk?” you call out, voice hushed. No one answers so you push the covers away.

It’s hard to tell what time it is or how long you were out, but you can’t feel any aches and pains that were there before you blacked out, so you assume you’ve been asleep for a very long time. You’re anxious to move. You sit up in bed, noticing your clothes were changed from the torn shirt and jeans into flannel pajamas. Your sneakers rest innocuously by the door. The shoes are clean of any debris you remember from the fall into the field of flowers and look better than they had in months. Next to the Nikes is a pair of cloud-like slippers that feel as good as they look when you slip them on.

The floorboards to creak a bit as you step out into the hallway. More warm wood paneling meets you. The lack of windows continues into the hall and the sense of peace you had when you awakened dwindles quickly. It’s hard to shake the dread that you really hadn’t survived the fall and this all was about to twist into a horrible nightmare.

Everything feels just a bit too big, like you’re a toy wandering through a dollhouse. It’s disorienting to see a table and chair set where the tabletop comes almost to your shoulder and you would have to hop to get into one of the seats. You and Frisk are both about five foot three, not quite average height, but not short either. It wasn’t noticeable in the bedroom you’d woken in but everywhere else seems to swallow you up. You start to call out your twin’s name again but stop yourself. Why wasn’t anyone else around? You gasp as you pinch yourself in the arm _hard_.

There’s movement up ahead, a shuffling sound and low speaking once you started listening for any noise that might give you a clue to where you were and where Frisk could be.

“No, my child, you need to stir it this way instead. That’s it! We add a pinch of salt next.”

Your feet make almost no sound as you pad carefully down a hallway into a spacious living room while following the sound of a warm, inviting voice. Light shines from the room furthest to your right behind a fireplace and enormous armchair. You can hear the clatter of dishware and laughter within. It’s quiet compared to the voice you heard giving instructions, but Frisk’s laughter is there, airy and familiar. The grip of panic in your chest releases enough to breathe deeply again.

“Frisk?”

At the sound of your voice, you hear your twin drop a spoon or utensil of some kind before appearing around the corner of the split between the living room and kitchen. They’re dressed in an apron and long sleeved shirt. The apron is much too small for them and does nothing to protect the clothes. Flour dusts their face and arms, too, some transferring to you when they reach for a hug and then linger next to you. Personal space isn’t really a thing for you with Frisk as a result of their poor eyesight and hearing. Their hair is pulled up out of their face into a tiny ponytail and their face is split with a wide grin.

_You’re awake! How do you feel?_

They reach over to check your temperature with the back of a hand and you let them. “I feel...I feel amazing, actually. Frisk what...where are we? What’s going on? Did we get rescued?”

 _Yes!_ They bounce on the balls of their feet and clap their hands together a couple times and it’s hard not to feel some of their enthusiasm. Relief sinks into you, tempered heavily by confusion. _Toriel saved us_.

You watch as they fingerspell a name you don’t recognize followed by a strange looking sign that you interpret to be a name sign. They move the letter T from their chin to their forehead and follow it with the sign for mother, repeating it a few times, and you can’t help thinking it looks an awful lot like the sign for goat-

“Hello, my child. I am glad to see you awake.”

Your throat constricts after making a sound you would normally be embarrassed about. Behind Frisk an enormous - person? Animal? Woman? - appears from the kitchen with an apron that matches Frisk’s all the way down to the ruffles on the pockets. The name sign immediately makes sense at the sight of this person. You’re not sure how you know the tall white goat-faced creature in front of you is female but you recall Frisk’s use of the sign for 'mother'. The voice you’d heard before matched the one you just heard coming from her (muzzle?) and was layered with such genuine kindness you didn’t act on your first instinct which was to turn and run back down to the bedroom and barricade the door with you and Frisk inside until the drugs wore off.

“My name is Toriel.”

The name Frisk had fingerspelled. So that’s how it was pronounced. You could feel Frisk’s hands on your arm with a grip that was forceful but not painful. Had you tried to run down the hall? You don’t recall.

Her head tilts and she smiles a bit, and you stare as you see a line of blunt teeth interrupted by several devilish looking fangs. “Frisk told me your name is _________. I am very glad to meet you, you gave us quite a scare back in the Ruins.”

Eyes wide and mind on overdrive you turn to Frisk. Forcing yourself to unclench your jaw you ask, “Explain?”

Frisk glances over to Toriel, who stays standing at the barrier between the tiles of the kitchen and polished wood flooring in the living room. They motion for her to go back, signing, _The pie. I’ll talk to her._

“Pie?” Your voice is choked and you can’t muster more than single words, it seems.

 _Toriel found us in the Ruins after you fainted,_ Frisk starts, moving one hand rapidly until they sit you down on one of the smaller chairs you hadn’t noticed before by the fireplace. Satisfied you weren’t about to leap back up again, they keep going. _You tried to stand and your concussion knocked you out. I couldn’t lift you but I was able to move you to a spot where you were sitting up so I could try to look for help. It was getting darker, and when I used the flare it went up and out of the hole, but nobody came. You wouldn’t wake up and I don’t know how long it was but then Toriel showed up! She said sometimes people fall down, and she makes sure to check the golden flower room every day, just in case_.

Instead of speaking you respond in sign as well. _What the actual fuck are you talking about, Frisk._

They grip your shoulders and search your face with concerned eyes for a second before sighing, letting go to continue to speak. _Toriel found us, carried you here, and healed you_.

The inside of your head felt hollow, like the things they were telling you were flying in one ear and out the other because this was insanity. You were insane. You really were dead, or stuck in some sort of coma where you were Alice on the wrong side of the Looking Glass -

 _Stop! _________, stop it. I know what you’re doing! Look at me! This is real! We are in the Underground, and we are safe but...but we aren’t going home. There’s no way out of here back there, no one will be able to find us_.

“I think I need to lie down.”

They don’t stop you when you stand up and walk woodenly back down the hallway towards the door you used to apparently teleport into crazy-town where enormous goat-creatures exist that wear aprons and bake pies. You pull the door shut behind you as calmly as you can and stand just inside the doorway to take a few deep breaths. Like rewinding a tape you do everything you did after waking, but in reverse, kicking off the slippers, sitting on the bed to stare at the room, then throwing all the covers over your head before lying motionless. It takes several hours for you to fall back asleep, hours where your brain was on a constant repeat of _what the hell - what the fuck - what the hell._

* * *

 

Frisk shakes your arm several times until you open your eyes and look up at them. Their face is neutral, but cautious if you’re reading them correctly. Even though you are mirror images of each other in most ways, the two of you can still look as different as strangers. Where they carry mischievousness edges in all of their smiles, you take life more seriously, so it’s disarming to see an expression you use almost exclusively on Frisk’s face instead.

_Hungry?_

You nod. You’re afraid to look away from their face to see if the room is the same one you forced yourself to fall asleep in, but the cold logic of reality scratches at your mind the same way the unfamiliar pajama buttons rub against your chest and stomach. Moving to a sitting position, you reach to your wrist to grab a ponytail holder to see nothing there, so you drop the hold you have on your long hair behind your head.

“Hello, my dear.”

You freeze and look up from where your hands splay over the quilt and clench them into fists.

Toriel stands in the doorway, filling it to the point where she would have to stoop if the horns atop her head were even an inch longer. Even without them, you guess she stands well over seven feet tall. Getting called a child stirs something dark and ugly inside of you but the size difference combined with the even tone of her voice quiets your automatic anger.  She doesn’t enter the room for the space of several breaths. She holds a slice of what reminds you of pumpkin pie balanced between her hands (paws?). Moving with measured steps into the room she settles herself onto the cot across from your bed. It groans a little as she bends almost double, knees up into her chest. The door is left open and you watch as Frisk moves out of sight towards the living room you explored earlier. At this height, her eyes are even with yours across the room.

Neither of you speak, and you watch as Toriel’s shoulders rise and fall in an even tempo with her breathing. You flinch away when you realize you’re staring at her horizontal pupils like you’ll unravel the knotted puzzle she represents somehow within them.

“It has been some time since you’ve eaten anything, dear. Would you like some of the pie Frisk and I baked together? It is butterscotch-cinnamon.”

“Not really,” you snap a little too quickly and a little too harshly.

Toriel brings the plate back towards her knees instead of reaching out toward you. She looks like your retort stung but she understands. Amazing, really, how many emotions you could read in a face covered in pearly white fur and more in common with a goat than a human. You figure you’re projecting onto her though that doesn’t stop you from feeling a little guilty for being so rude.

“Frisk said you carried me here and healed me.” Sticking to facts and sorting out your own thoughts felt easier than trying to apologize to a goat-woman.

Her head tilts to the side a bit and her long ears sway with the motion. “I did.”

“Thanks, then, I guess.” You shuffle your feet below the quilt and watch how it forms hills and valleys across the bed. “Even if you probably are a figment of my imagination or some sort of coping mechanism to deal with suppressed trauma and - you know what, forget it.”

“I assure you I am as real as you are, my child.” Toriel is smiling now by the sound of her voice.

You look over at her again where she has stretched out her legs, appearing much more comfortable but still like an adult at a children’s tea party. Her feet are bare and you notice for the first time though her face and body resemble a goat she doesn’t have any hooves, but feet and hands that are humanoid.  She doesn’t act like she minds your staring which makes it hard to stop once that door is open.

“Is there any way I can prove it to you?”

The question surprises you and you drag your eyes away from the pads at the bottom of her feet to her face again.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. You swivel to face her, feet hanging over the edge of the bed, and cross your arms over your chest. “I can say I’ve never seen anything, uh, anyone like you before. I don’t know how I would have dreamt you up. Or this place, either, everything is so much bigger.”

Toriel watches you patiently as you puzzle out loud. The pie slice sits waiting on the bed next to her. Your stomach interrupts what you are about to say with a loud gurgle as you put two and two together, remembering the heavenly smell coming from the kitchen earlier. Logically you don’t see how you could feel hunger like this if you were stuck in limbo, a dream, or something even more dire. Before you can ask her to pass you the plate, Toriel lifts the food from the bed and passes it across the room to you.

The first bite hits your tongue and spreads a warmth across your body that doesn’t feel natural. It feels like waking up on Christmas morning with your parents, or whenever you meet a pet for the first time, and maybe just a little like getting a test back that you aced. More than satisfy your hunger, the pie fills a space in your chest that radiates warmth through the rest of your body.

You don’t realize you had started crying until Toriel hands you a small cloth handkerchief. She moves the empty plate away from you and pulls you into her lap. You haven’t been held like this since you were very young, and though you don’t know much if anything about the goat-woman, the action feels natural and safe. Her fur is the softest thing you’ve ever felt in your life. Beneath your shoulder, you can feel her chest move as she breathes. You don’t understand what’s happened to you since you woke up at the campsite and noticed Frisk was gone but this is the first time since you’ve felt safe. Protected.

“Yes, come in, my child. She’s alright just a bit overwhelmed.”

One of Toriel’s paws leaves your arm and is replaced by a familiar hand. There’s a bit of jostling as Frisk joins the two of you on the bed and presses themselves into Toriel’s other side, and they grab your hand closest to them. The three of you sit without speaking as you collect yourself. You can’t recall a time you’d been this emotional, especially in front of a stranger. It’s undeniably odd but allowing Toriel to hold you until your chin is steady is more natural than any exchange you’ve had with any of the long line of foster parents in your past.

“Do you need anything more to eat, dear?”

Toriel’s voice rumbles from her chest into yours like a cat’s purr, only far stronger.

“Yes, please,” you say. The pie was delicious, but you are nowhere near full. Even after the substantial slice you ate, hunger claws inside you.

She gently sets you down on the floor on your feet so she can stand as well. Frisk slips off the side of the bed as well, and the three of you move into the kitchen to find something else to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **Potential trigger warnings** : Some references to the trauma of prior chapters.
> 
> Hi! Hey there! I got a little eager to post this chapter tonight instead of on Tuesday for me but it can be hard to upload a chapter while at work so instead of waiting until late Tuesday you get this now! THANK YOU FOR READING! Please let me know what you're thinking so far in the comments section below, I treasure every one of them. See? I keep them in a shiny cookie jar on a shelf, where I can look at them and love them all the time!
> 
> Catch you guys on Friday!


	4. Unnecessary Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).
> 
> Moar fanart that I'm not sure I deserve but am so thankful for. [Thank you!](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart)

Cracks web across the front and back of Frisk’s cell phone, the rough edges of the glass biting your fingertips when you brush them the wrong way. Their phone was in the backpack when the two of you fell two days ago. From what they remember they landed on it, buffering some of the impact. Yours is still mostly intact but without a way to charge it, it might as well be as damaged as Frisk’s. Funny how neither of you were nursing any broken bones but the metal and glass in your hand was almost destroyed. 

Holding onto the technology and messing with items from the backpack keep you sane while passing the hours in Toriel’s home. The woman’s hospitality is astounding, but you still don’t trust her. Her intentions are too kind. In your experience there’s always a catch. Foster parents, teachers, counselors, none of them had stuck around, or they turned out to be terrible people. As much as the two of you have lived through together, you’re cautious for both yours and Frisk’s sake. 

Frisk is far more trusting. Years have passed since the accident that took your parent’s lives, the same one that damaged Frisk’s sight and hearing and several burn scars across their chest. But, even with so much time passed, it hurts to watch them treat Toriel like the mother you both sorely missed. They attach themselves to the woman more surely than a newborn calf following its mother. They’d never been this way with any of the foster mothers you were placed with and the behavior set alarms off in your head. It really bothers you, no matter how nice Toriel is, logic dictating it’s more than simple paranoia, it’s something you’ve seen proven time and again. 

There are too many questions unanswered for you to feel at ease. Why was she down here, and how long had she lived here? Why did she look like an enormous goat with human shaped hands and feet? Was she born with some sort of birth defects that forced her to live underground? Why did both Toriel and Frisk insist there was no way out the way you came? Why was it you had to eat three times as much food to feel like you had anything in your stomach to digest? You stare down at the spiderwebs in the glass as if the answers to all of those questions and a hundred more spinning through your head were there, hidden just out of view, and if only you turned it the right way everything will make sense again. There’s something bigger at work but you can’t seem to find it.

You fight with them over how they’re acting, expressing the depth of your frustration and concern through sign language after Toriel is in bed. They turned off the light once they realized you were trying to convince them to leave with you and return to the cave where you fell in case rescuers were waiting. You wanted to drag them out of the bed and house by force but you didn’t want to alert Toriel of an attempted escape, certain Frisk would cause a ruckus. There is no way you’d leave without them.

Most of the last two days you spend in bed, recuperating at Toriel’s insistence, and you’re getting antsy. Concussions aren’t anything to mess around with, you know that, but there’s no evidence of any lingering symptoms. Today you’re sitting at the dining table while Frisk and Toriel talk by the fireplace. She’s telling them even more snail facts than she did the day before with Frisk returning the favor by expanding her sign language vocabulary. That was another huge question that nagged you - how did she know ASL so well, where did she learn it? Some of the motions you recognize as straight out of textbooks from decades ago. Several tattered books lined the shelves from a time before online media ruled language education. Watching them, you can’t help but get a little lost in the exchange of knowledge and your own need to monitor as much as you can of Toriel’s behavior.

Her laughter shakes her whole body when Frisk tells her the story of their favorite April Fool’s Day prank, the one where they woke up  _ very  _ early, walked to school and unlocked several of their friend’s lockers to fill them with confetti, balloons, so many things. They’d saved up for months to buy everything they could from the corner novelty and party store. You smile, remembering how mad you were at first when you opened your locker and a ton of springy snakes leapt out at you. It felt extra special since you weren’t bothered a bit by snakes but the nasty gossip two lockers down from you  _ really hated them _ and she avoided the area around your locker for weeks afterwards. By the end of that school year, you and Frisk were packing to go to the next foster family. Leaving that home had been the hardest. Karen and Greg you hope will be the last couple you live with until you’re eighteen and can legally leave the system behind for good.

Thinking of the people above ground makes your smile fade and your attention return to the notebook in front of you. Notes and lines criss cross over each page with everything you’ve jotted down, everything you can remember happening since you woke up feeling like you were dying at the bottom of a cave. Several items are circled viciously, including the word you swear you heard Frisk speak though they skirt the issue masterfully each time you try to bring that up, too.

If you weren’t watching Frisk again you would have assumed Toriel was jumping the shark with the next thing she said. As it was, they asked Toriel how she’d come to live here.

“I have been the caretaker of the Ruins for many years, my child, since long before you and your sister were born. There were several human children who fell before you.” The fire burns a little brighter when she leans over to stoke it though you notice she doesn’t reach for one of the utensils to the side. She hesitates on the next bit as Frisk uses the sign for  _ Where? _ “They chose not to stay here with me, where it is safe. I do not wish the same fate for either of you.”

The way she said the word human, her enunciation, it makes your stomach clench and eyes narrow. “What happened to them?”

Toriel moves her gaze to you but is sure to use sign simultaneously to keep Frisk in the conversation. “They moved on, deeper into the Underground.”

“I thought this was the Underground?”

“Oh, no, these are only the Ruins, the very beginning of the Underground. Around a millennia ago relations between humans and my people were strained, on the brink of war on the worst days. Together we made our way deep under this mountain for our own safety. We lived here peacefully for some time before what peace we’d found crumbled and humans sealed us here.”

You blink once. Twice. “You keep calling us humans like you aren’t one.”

Laughter bubbles forth from Toriel until she catches the look on your face. The mood is serious once more when she realizes the question is sincere. “My dear, you thought I was human? No, of course not. I am a monster.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“I am a monster.”

“Pull the other one,” you snap. Your temper starts to burn deep in your chest. 

Frisk signs your name with a jagged movement. A reprimand. But their lips are twitching, as if they’re holding back laughter, too. Ouch.

“Those who fell before you showed the signs of forgetting our race. I was afraid the Barrier would eventually erase us but...” Toriel pauses to sigh, keeping eye contact with you. Frisk moves from kneeling on the floor to sit on the ottoman between you and Toriel. “You do not believe me, ___________, though I do not know how to prove myself to you except to exist. Your Soul is logical. You seek the truth and answers in everything you do, but you miss what’s just in front of you.”

“What are you implying, Toriel?”

_ Please, ________ , _ Frisk signs, shifting to face you.  _ She’s telling the truth. Promise. _

It stings that Frisk is on her side. “Monsters don’t exist. It’s cruel people called you awful names for being born differently, Toriel, and I totally get wanting to claim the word for yourself. Like, take away their power? That sort of thing? But real monsters like from fairy tales they do  _ not _ exist.”

“It is not metaphorical, my dear. You are a human, I am a monster. It is as simple as that.”

Your throat is constricting and your breathing is faster than it was a few minutes ago. Did someone stoke the fire? Sweat is beading on the back of your neck beneath your hair and dripping down your back. That’s fine. This is fine. These people are either sticking to their guns with a stupid prank or have completely lost their damned minds! Toriel and Frisk watch you expectantly, as if they’ve revealed the secret to their best magic trick and you were supposed to  _ ooh _ and  _ ahh _ and move on as if everything is hunky dory and not like you are living in a house with a crazy person who claims to be another  _ species. _

“Excuse me,” you choke out.

The door sticks when you yank it open, not pausing your sprint to look at an ominous tree in Toriel’s front yard, or stopping to grab your sneakers from the bedroom. All you can think is a repeated litany of _ this is not fine this is very much not an okay thing happening right now. _

Beneath your feet the floor is cold, slick, and you quickly lose track of where you are. Inside of the house with Toriel the muted golds and browns were soothing. Here in the corridors of the ruins the light tricks your eyes and feels sharp by comparison. You can’t tell where the light source is, but it’s steady and unbroken no matter which way you turn. It messes with your senses of depth perception and direction since it casts so few shadows, and you skid turning a corner, ramming into a white pillar that stands floor to ceiling. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all similar shades of purple so the color change is a shock. Blood rushes in your ears. Between your panic and the pain in the foot you rammed against the unyielding stone, you’re forced to slow to a halt and get your bearings.

A pile of blood red leaves fills a far corner of the room with no discernable source. You think you might have noticed the same leaves below that mangled tree but your breathing is difficult and your head is busier trying to decide the best way out of here. 

Something moves behind you, rustling another pile of leaves from a corridor you...you think you came from that direction? Oh god don’t think about being lost just move  _ away from the crazy woman _ -

In retrospect running backwards away from the noise, though you wanted to make sure nothing was following you, was a very bad choice. You feel the ground shift beneath you and suddenly you’re falling again. You can’t even scream because your heart feels lodged in your throat. The trip is much quicker and far less painful this time, but you’re still sore from hiking, and falling, and oh god what did you land in?

You gasp for breath after the landing knocks the wind out of you. As you do, you take your bearings. The small pit hidden under leaves is just as bright as every other place you’ve seen outside of Toriel’s home so you’re able to see every corner of the little room. There are two doors, one on the left and one to the right, and beneath you are even more of the bright red leaves. As far as you can tell, you’re alone, and no one is following you down to an inexplicable hole in the floor. Arms wide on either side of you, you catch your breath and stay still on the ground. Part of you feels like crying but you can’t tell if it’s from hysteria, fear, or your temper. Since you can’t decide you shove the instinct down until your chin stops quivering and you can breath in through your nose without a shudder.

Exhaustion from your mad dash through the Ruins and the shock of falling again (you  _ definitely _ had some sort of phobia now) keep you planted to the ground. In the quiet your mind supplies an image of Frisk with one of their trademark shit-eating grins. They sign dramatically  _ This is your life now _ and you want to smack memory Frisk into next Tuesday. You weren’t safe from their shitty, overused memes even in your own head during a mental breakdown.

Time passes without you taking notice. The leaves rustle around you without any sort of breeze so the noise fades into the background. With your eyes closed to focus on your heartbeat, your breathing, something steady instead of the maelstrom in your head, you’re near oblivious to everything around you.

So, by the time someone else enters the little room beneath the Ruins, you’re almost in a meditative trance.

“oh...oh no...I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your way…”

You shoot up and nearly knock your head into...a ghost. A very cartoonish looking ghost floating a few feet away that looks almost as surprised as you feel. His...hers? Their eyes are giant ovals compared to the overall size of their translucent body. For a breathless moment neither of you move, too stunned at the sight of each other. The ghost wiggles a bit.  After years interpreting every move you could of Frisk’s, you somehow recognize the action as the ghost wringing its nonexistent hands, and you almost start to laugh hysterically at the idea. 

_ This is my life now. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/) (I do take requests, just saying)
> 
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : From here on out I won't mention it in the warnings down here but there is some swearing.
> 
> Oh look a prime example of me being a hasty sonuvabitch and posting on a Thursday instead of Friday oh well. NaNo is kicking my butt into gear and I'm a few chapters ahead of where I thought I needed to be so here! Enjoy the fruits of my productivity while it lasts! Much love to all, please leave a comment if you have any questions about what's going on, or just want to yell at me, tell me how your day is, anything! Tumblr is also a good place to yell at me.


	5. Ghost Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

Years ago Frisk described what being partially blind felt like, when you were insatiably curious one night after moving into the first foster home. You were both seven and too scared to sleep in separate beds in a house you didn’t know, so hours into a sleepless night the two of you were deep in a conversation rabbit hole. 

Frisk didn’t seem to mind the question and you suspected that was only because you were the one asking, desperately trying to understand what happened to them, how to help. They couldn’t see if you were signing in the poorly lit room so you were whispering as quietly as you could. The feeling of darkness they described whenever in low light had at once terrified and fascinated you, and every time you moved after that you made sure the first thing you did was plug in a nightlight into whatever room you shared. The memory replays in your head, the description of their night-blindness, as you experience something similar with this little ghost with very few exceptions.

Bright purple and blood red of the Ruins and leaves fade away until the world is in black and white. A low sound rises in the back of your mind and after a few seconds you realize it’s definitely only inside your head, not something you’re hearing with your ears, though how you know this you’re not sure. Cheerful and strange, the music loops over and over.

The ghost watches you. They’re the only thing you can see across the black expanse of...whatever this is. It’s too dark. The only word you have for it is black but it feels more absolute than that. One wrong move and you think it could swallow you whole. Beneath your bare feet you can still feel the leaves rustle around your toes above smooth tile which is very disorienting. Words float in front of you just out of your range of vision, a mirage at the edges you wish you could make out, but you’re staring at the ghost, afraid to look away in case they disappeared. They float there like they’re waiting for something, for you to make the first move. 

Your eyes sweep up and down to regard the apparition in front of you. Hardly the strangest thing to happen to you today. Words you can’t see but can hear interrupt your thoughts. 

***Here comes Napstablook.**

Instinct tells you to move, run away, keep rushing towards the room with golden flowers, but as soon as you try you find you’re only able to move so far. The black blanket filling your vision, broken only by those words on your peripheral vision and the stark white of the ghost (Napstablook?) across from you, blocks you from seeing the hand in front of your face. You can feel yourself lifting your feet, your hands, bending your knees, but you can’t see any of it. 

“Lucid dreaming,” you mutter. It’s the only logical explanation you can think of. Napstablook tilts their head across from you like they’re trying to listen better. “Alright so this is a dream, how do I wake up?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth your attention snaps back up, something white moving towards you...are those tears coming from the ghost? One hits you in the middle of the chest and it  _ hurts _ so you dash as far as you can to avoid more hitting that spot. You look down the first chance you get to see what in the world the ghost’s attack hit.

Bright, blinding color stuns you at first. After several minutes of nothing but black and white it’s hard to tell what it is at first. Slowly your brain catches up to your eyes and your dream supplies you with a purple light nearly too intense to look at. The longer you gaze down, the more hues and shades you can see, and you don’t know how your mind could have supplied such a brilliant color, since you’re certain you’ve never seen this color when you were awake. It’s difficult to pull your gaze back up towards Napstablook, but, if what they did hurt this ball of beautiful light, you need to be ready. Your hand brushes something to your left as you move and as you draw your fingers away you touch something else that feels slick and solid at the same time, like melting ice without the feeling of cold. More words reverberate in your head, the music of the dream world continuing on its pleasant loop.

***You check Napstablook.**

“Oh, I’m REAL funny…”

The voice you can recognize now as belonging to Napstablook has a strange quality, a tone you can’t pin down but makes you smile softly in understanding automatically. Leave it to you to produce a self-conscious ghost in your lucid dream to cope with the strangeness of the last few days.

Again, as you struggle to move further than a few paces in any direction so you can dodge the tears floating from Napstablook’s side of the room to you, your hand touches that smooth surface. Though the words disappear as soon as you try to look directly at them, you can see the word * **ACT** and * **CHEER** before they fade away.

“Here goes nothing,” you say. * **You tell Napstablook a little joke** _.  _ “Why can’t you iron a four-leaf clover?”

Napstablook doesn’t speak this time, waiting for you to deliver the punchline.

“Because you shouldn’t press your luck.”

“...not really feeling up to it today...sorry.”

No other actions follow, no tears to dodge. You can’t pretend not to be relieved you haven’t had to dodge more of the ghosts tears, and anything you can try to cheer him up and stop him crying seems to be the best option. The mechanics of the dream world make sense to you now, since it’s so similar to the battle modes in the vintage games you loved to play on your GameBoy before it finally gave up the ghost. You try again when it’s clear it’s your turn. 

“Maybe you didn’t like that joke?” * **ACT** ... **CHEER** _. _ “How do astronauts get ready for a party? They planet!”

***Napstablook wants to show you something** _.  _ “heh...heh...let me try…”

You’re prepared to dodge again in case your idea of another joke didn’t work. Tears do start flowing from Napstablook’s eyes again yet this time instead of floating towards you the tears go up above the ghost’s head and start to form something resembling a pure white top hat.

“...i call it ‘dapper blook’...do you like it?”

One hand is already hovering over the * **ACT** button, ready to reply.

***Frisk steps into the encounter.**

Red light soaks one half of your vision for an instant, a familiar hand finding yours in the dark. Frisk’s hand grips yours near painfully. You suddenly don’t feel so alone and the purple light in the center of your chest glows a little brighter. If Frisk is here and you can feel their hand in yours, why didn’t the dream bubble pop? 

***Frisk tells Napstablook they like their hat.**

“oh gee…”

Without warning the black curtain of your dream state fades away. Purples and reds too ethereal to be real go with it, and the colors of the Ruins come back to you. Everything seems a little duller now and you blink away the spots in your vision leftover from gazing too long at the curious lights emanating from yours and Frisk’s sternums.

“I usually come to the Ruins because there’s nobody around...but today I met somebody nice...two somebody’s...oh, i’m rambling again. I’ll get out of your way…” Napstablook shifts to fade up through the ceiling, their translucent body fading to invisibility.

You blink once. Twice. Remembering to breathe, you suck in a sharp breath through your nose and open your mouth to scream because  _ that was a real ghost holy SHIT _ -

Frisk’s face is inches from yours and you choke on the scream. “Frisk, holy shit,  _ what was that _ !”

_ Napstablook _ ,  _ did he damage you, what happened _ ? Their hands move frantically and you can barely understand them when they stand this close to you so you scoot backward through the leaves.  It had to be a dream. You remember the twinge of pain when those tear things hit your chest but it was a dream, you weren’t actually hurt, there was no way. Frisk reaches a hand out to rest a few fingers a few inches below your throat and presses hard enough to leave little red dots when they pull their fingers away.  _ Damn he got you I think. Here. Follow me. _

A dull ache resonates in your chest starting from the spot Frisk placed their fingertips. You follow Frisk through the door on the right and your stomach lurches when you experience the feeling of floating upwards through another pitch black curtain. It happens so fast you’re not sure if you believe it happened. You’re back in the room with white pillars and little colored switches on the ground and not quite sure how you got there. Before taking another step you grab Frisk’s arm and turn them to face you.

“What is happening, what was that? How are you in my dream, did you wake me up?” You release their arm so they can answer.

_ That was an encounter, not a dream, _________. You never fell asleep, or if you did then Napstablook woke you up before I got here. Toriel told me monsters use those to communicate sometimes, or if they feel threatened they bring someone into that hud to defend themselves. _

“Monsters. Right. Yeah, I’m gonna go this way and climb out of that hole.”

_ Oh, my god, stop it.  _ Frisk is suddenly serious.  _ The people down here. They’re monsters. You need to read the book Toriel showed me. I don’t know as much about that anthropology stuff you love so much but some of those dates and facts, they match up, it makes sense. _

The signs for “don’t know” and “anthropology” are so similar you’re lost for a moment but your brain catches up after a beat. “Monsters live in fairy tales, Frisk.”

_ YOU JUST FOUGHT A MONSTER WITH MAGIC TEARS HOW MUCH PROOF DO YOU NEED _ ? 

Something snaps in the silence that follows, the cracking of Frisk’s knuckles as they clench their fists. Your hands fall to your sides, halfway up to start gesturing again as you spoke. Frisk is breathing heavily from the force of what they said and they stomp around in a circle, frustrated and more serious than you’ve seen them in years. Chastised, you follow behind them as they stomp off to another corridor in the Ruins. The strangeness of the purple light without a source makes your eyes feel sore so you start to squint, and the pressure recedes.

Frisk had a point. There’d been a lot of proof over the last few hours, and days, that something bigger was happening down here. You don’t remember the details of what happened after you’d grabbed them and fallen through that hole in the clearing since you knew from one of your textbooks that the human brain protected itself from things like that and you shouldn’t be able to remember exactly how painful that experience was. It would drive you mad. Something about implicit and explicit memory and receptors. Maybe it was a video you watched? The source didn’t matter right now.

What did matter, however, was trying to understand what was happening and what that meant for you, and Frisk. You tap them on the elbow gently to get their attention. They could hear most things in close proximity but when they got into a snit like this it could be hard for them to hear. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

Frisk pauses and sighs.  _ It’s fine. It’s a lot to take in and I get that, and I’ve been awake longer than you have down here. _

“True, I guess. But...monsters?”

_ Yes _ , they sign with finality.  _ Toriel and Napstablook are monsters, and everyone else down here is a monster _ .

Wait. You wrinkle your brow in confusion and have to jog to catch up after missing a step. “Does that make us monsters, then, what are you saying?”

There’s a pause before Frisk doubles over, laughing hysterically. You don’t get time to feel hurt that they’re laughing at you before you join them, the sound so welcome and change of tone so abrupt that you are pulled into it effortlessly. Wiping a tear away, you hold your stomach, still so sore after everything and the laughter only made it a little worse. Worth it.

“Oh, my god that was a stupid question wasn’t it?”

Frisk bites their lip to tame their smile a little. Their shoulders are shaking still as they sign,  _ Yeah, it really was, you take things so literally sometimes. No, we’re human, that didn’t change. Only ones down here I’d guess. _

“But Toriel said others fell down here before us, and people go missing on Mt. Ebott all the time.” Uncharitable thoughts around Karen and Greg’s spring break choices bubble to the surface. “Really, what the hell were they thinking. Statistically, this was going to happen.”

_ Stooooppp with your statistics and ideas and just, I don’t know, feel for a few minutes? _

The argument is old, and a little annoying you’ll admit, but you wave Frisk’s hand out of your face and do as they ask anyway. Frisk rolls their eyes and looks around the area a bit. The white pillars are far behind you but the piles of red leaves are getting bigger. You need to keep squinting to see very well and you notice that even with their damaged vision, Frisk has to do the same.

“Why is this place so bright?” you ask as Frisk guides you down another path. “And how do you know where we’re going?”

_ Magic and magic? _ Before you can splutter and argue Frisk glares at you.  _ Feelings. Don’t think for a second. _

Your mouth closes and you swallow the retort ready on your tongue. Fine. You’ll even go so far as to plop down on this rock right here to do some damned meditation if it meant you could see what Frisk was seeing. They’re a prankster, a joke fiend, but when it counted you trusted them and knew they wouldn’t be acting this way if there wasn’t even a shred of believability behind what they were saying. It takes a few steps to get to the grey rock, about as large as one of the footstools in Toriel’s home, and you twist to sit down-

-and fall flat on your butt.

“Hey, there, pardner! It’s a little rude to try sitting on someone’s face, you know!”

“OH MY GOD!” you screech, turning to face the  _ very alive _ boulder.

“Shh, keep it down, will ya, my cousins over there are sleeping.”

Frisk is over in a flash with a grin on their face that makes you think they knew  _ exactly _ what would happen if you tried to sit on this chattering boulder. Were they exploring the Ruins when you were out cold? 

_ Sorry about my sister, she didn’t mean to be so rude. _ They look at you pointedly, and you’re staring because there’s no way in hell that the boulder could read sign language, right? It doesn’t have eyes, or ears or a mouth for goodness sake!

But they glare harder and you find your voice, stammering, “S-sorry, pardon me. Won’t happen again.”

“Aw, you’re pardoned, pumpkin. There are a few rocks up ahead that don’t mind being used as stools, by the spider bake sale.”

_ Thanks _ , Frisk signs. 

The boulder wriggles a bit, the first movement you’d seen it make, and you realize you were staring to try to figure out where it kept its mouth, how you were able to hear it. Frisk helps you up with a hand and leads you away from the small cluster of talking stones as you shake the surprise off your face.

_ Wanna try that again _ ?

“I’m a little...wired. I don’t know if I could concentrate enough to feel whatever the hell it is you’re trying to make me feel. But…” you bite your lip, a mirror of Frisk when they do this except you tend to chew on yours far longer and far more often, “but if I just talked to a rock, and I’m pretty sure that I’m not asleep or drugged, then that  _ has _ to be magic, right?”

_ Right, exactly _ . Frisk digs into the pocket of their corduroy pants and pulls out a few golden pieces all the size of stud earrings. Each makes a satisfying plunk when they drop it into a bag that looks to be made of a spider web.  _ You want cider or a donut _ ?

“What is this, a cider mill? Uh...cider.”

With an indignant finger pointing to the sign above the strange containers that reads  _ Spider Bake Sale. All proceeds go to real spiders _ , Frisk pays for two ciders and one donut. They pass one of the drinks to you, a little glass bottle with a paper label and a request to please bring the empty bottle back when you were finished. 

“Huh. Spiders recycle.” The drink is cool, slightly fizzy, and the sensation reminds you of eating food at Toriel’s. You can taste it and feel it go down your throat but somewhere between mouth and stomach most of it vanishes. A warm feeling that has nothing to do with temperature spreads from your lips down to your toes in a flash and an ache you didn’t realize you had disappeared from your chest like a pressure being lifted. You look for any kind of nutrition label and aren’t all that surprised to not find one. “Monster food is made of magic, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t feel like I really drank anything but...wow, do you feel that, too?”

Chewing on half of a spider donut, Frisk nods.  _ Toriel could probably tell us more about how that works. You can be science nerds together.  _

Teasing, you can handle that, since it’s more in the normal range of the spectrum of Frisk behavior, all things considered. Their bottle of cider sticks out of a back pocket and they offer the other half of the snack to you. The gesture is casual enough that you grab it without thinking, the glaze sticking to your fingers and lips as you eat it. Considering all the possibilities of magical food that instantly lifts your mood and makes you feel physically healed distracts you as Frisk leads you back through the Ruins to the courtyard with a large black tree and Toriel’s home. Still barefoot, you notice the texture of leaves below your feet instead of stone and look up. 

On the front steps stands Toriel wringing her hands. Buoyed by the good feelings left behind by the spider baked goods, you’re not as bothered when Frisk waves enthusiastically and rushes over to be scooped up into a hug by the goat monster.

_ Found her with Napstablook _ , Frisk explains when she puts them down again.  _ Little ghost monster, the one you mentioned liked to wander out there? _

“Yes, I know whom you speak of, my child.” Her voice is strained and she regards both of you with concerned looks in turn. “Tell me, what happened when you met them?”

Frisk looks to you to explain and, with a few sheepish glances to your bare feet at the start, you find your stride and explain everything that happened after you ran from the house. In retrospect, you know your actions were very childish and rash, which are traits you typically reserve for describing your well-meaning but trouble-attracting twin. Apples and trees, you suppose. Toriel, to her credit, does not interrupt once until you describe what happened when you realized you could see only one color in the black and white world of Napstablook’s approach.

“They encountered you?” she asks. The three of you had migrated to the porch benches halfway through your explanation and she leans toward you as you reach this part.

“Uh...yeah. I sat up and felt the world go all hazy around me and then all I could see was Napstablook and like, I could hear music? I think. I’m not sure, but there was some sort of music and I could see things in my peripheral vision, a  _ really bright _ purple light like-” your hands flap in front of your chest “-and when I touched something I was able to speak and tell them a joke. I saw something red, too, when Frisk found me.”

Toriel immediately relaxes at your explanation and you wonder what she expected you to say. “Those are your Souls, dear.”

“Souls. Like, what the priests at school tell us will get us into heaven if we just accept Jesus?”

“No, not like that, exactly,” Toriel says. “I do not know enough of human religion to accurately answer that question for you, dear. Your Soul is...you. It is all of you, what makes up every part of your personality, your traits, everything non-physical about you starts and ends with it. When you are in an encounter it is much easier to see since the entire encounter is made of magic.”

_ Like an X-Ray _ ? Frisk asks, eagerly participating in the discussion. 

Toriel agrees that yes, that’s a great way to think of it. The rest of the story goes smoothly and uninterrupted, ending when you returned to the courtyard. You’re still not sure how to take all of this in but Frisk’s excitement helps you to focus on  _ definitely not freaking out _ because Souls are real?

“Frisk brought you Muffet’s bake sale so I assume you were hurt. Would you mind if I check you, dear?”

“Sure, I guess. Will you make the world black and white, too?” The idea makes you a little uncomfortable.

“Oh, no, I do not need to do that to check. Your hand, please?”

Rough pads on her fingertips rub against the few callouses on your palms. You’d half expected those to be as soft as her fur, so the texture caught you off guard and you had to consciously not pull your hand away. Sensing your nerves Toriel speaks as she gently holds your hand, avoiding touching you with the claws at the end of each finger.

“It is not necessary to touch when checking another, but it makes the entire process easier and less uncomfortable for both parties if outside of an encounter. I do not see any permanent changes to your Soul, my dear, but how are you feeling? You have had a very eventful first few days in the Underground.”

“I feel great right now, honestly. And Toriel, I wanted to ask you about...well, a lot of things, really,” you say, words spilling easily after talking about your run through the corridors of the Ruins. “But can we go back in the house? I have to squint a little out here, it’s so bright.”

“Of course, and it is getting close to suppertime. Would you join me in the kitchen while I cook for us?”

_ I want to help! _ Frisk signs, jumping up and rushing indoors without waiting. 

Toriel chuckles and appears more relaxed than she had since before you ran from her home. “Your twin is quite extraordinary.”

“I know,” you say with a fond smile. “Don’t tell them I agreed with you!”

Mimicking the motion of locking her lips and throwing away a key, Toriel stands and goes back inside. You linger for just another moment to take in the courtyard with an ominously dark tree, perpetually falling leaves and the strange purple light from the walls. 

Oh, yes. You had  _ so _ many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/) (I do take requests, just saying)
> 
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon-typical violence, mild gaslighting in the form of Reader being convinced monsters are real and they're not hallucinating.
> 
> What even is an update schedule, because I sure as heck don't seem to understand that concept! Anyway, I've decided twice a week will be the norm depending on how far ahead I am on writing. Thank you for your kudos, bookmarks, comments, EVERY single one of them makes me smile and keeps the lights on inside of my muse's house.


	6. Home (Music Box)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).
> 
> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart)

“This book mentions how monsters existed all over the surface of the Earth back then but most of them were concentrated here in the Rockies. Why is that?”

“Relations between humans and monsters were deteriorating quickly after too many misunderstandings driving a wedge between the foundations built over the course of millennia. At the time, we had the means to live in less forgiving climates and thrive in ways humans could not. Our voluntary separation extended peace for several hundred more years past what I suspect they would have lasted.” Toriel pauses to pass a bowl of dull blue cooked mushrooms to you, and you dished some onto your plate before passing them to Frisk. “We traded with nomadic and native humans who populated the region and entertained visiting monsters and humans from far reaches of the globe. Our king, Asgore, he sought to mend relations with the humans, but each time an ambassador contingent returned from their attempts it was clear the humans were not as interested in peaceful interactions as monsters were.”

Suppertime is usually dominated by discussions of whatever you’d studied that day and tonight was no exception. There’s a heady sense of peace and normalcy despite everything that’s happened, though it still feels funny after several weeks living Underground to notice the passing of time only through the hands of a clock on the mantle.

You stick close to Toriel’s home whenever venturing out into the Ruins, but tomorrow she had promised to take both of you with her when she checked the golden flower cavern for any other fallen humans. She went every day but since your...outburst, you had decided not to press your luck. Tomorrow you’d be rewarded for your patience.

You cut the various vegetation on your plate into bite size pieces as you listen. Meat was never part of the meal, but you really didn’t miss it. From the way Frisk voraciously ate whatever Toriel put in front of them, they didn’t either. Toriel had already explained living Underground limited the monsters living here to fewer food groups. After experiencing the shock of meeting sentient stone, you could see the complications a meat-filled diet would pose. Everything tasted amazing and not least because of the way it was infused with _fucking magic_.

“That makes sense,” you say between bites. “Asgore, was he a good king?”

Toriel tilts her head with an odd look in her eyes. “He is still king of all monsters.”

 _How old is he_ ? Frisk signs with wide eyes. _He’s got to be a billion years old!_

“Closer to three thousand, my child,” Toriel says with an indulgent smile. She reaches over to check Frisk’s chin gently in an imitation of a pinch. Her claws would make a real pinch dangerous.

“Three thousand? Holy sh...iitake mushrooms.” To hide your disbelief and almost slip-up from Toriel, you spear another bite and lift it to your lips. Before eating you pause to look at it more closely, ready to ask another question. “How do these work?”

Toriel methodically cuts into her own food and looks at you across the table with a knowing smirk but doesn’t reprimand you. You’ve learned that look. She’d divulged to you two that her life’s ambition was to become a teacher, and this was a look you’d seen on all of your favorite teachers topside. Though Frisk hadn’t asked the question, she made sure to direct her comment to them as well.

“How does it make you feel?”

 _Really good, of course, and it tastes awesome_ , Frisk answered after wiping their mouth with a napkin. _The mushrooms feel like they’re just for health?_

“Yes! Correct, my child. And you, dear? The roots?”

Your mouth twitches and you squint your eyes a bit. The same technique you’d used to see more clearly outside was the easiest way to concentrate on what Frisk could do without visible effort: check your stats. Eyes lidded, almost shut, you can’t see the light in the middle of your chest but you can feel more of it. Like breathing or your heartbeat, it’s there but not in the forefront of your mind unless you intentionally focus on it.

“Health points, of course. But there’s something else to do with my uh, my vision?”

Toriel beams at the both of you. “Wonderful work! Now, tell me what you did with Napstablook today, Frisk?”

Frisk animatedly tells the dinner table how they met the ghost by chance not far from the courtyard in front of the house and spent time laying on the ground and feeling like garbage together. You almost snorted water out your nose when they signed that combined with the goofy, happy grin on their face.

The routine you’d fallen into with Toriel and Frisk was comfortable enough throughout the waking hours you only felt the heaviness of reality when you went to bed at the end of the day. Then, lying in bed facing the unfamiliar ceiling and breathing in air that tasted different, even felt different moving through your lungs, your mind raced a mile a minute. Monsters. They were real. All of it. And they could use _magic_! Logic and childlike excitement fight for control of your brain every night and all you can do is lie there and let the rush of thoughts and ideas drown you.

Of course, this means sleep does not come easily, but you were no stranger to insomnia before falling down into this confusing other world far beneath the mountains. Better eyesight and hearing meant you were commonly the guard dog in every new home and everywhere you went with Frisk. As you got older the anxiety charged insomnia hours filled with reading or scrolling through whatever interested you on the internet, eventually falling asleep with your phone face down on your chest or the mattress beside you after more late night reading. Down here you didn’t have the internet. Sure, Toriel had procured ancient looking phones from somewhere that worked down here, allowing you and Frisk a modicum of expanded independence, but the most outlandish thing you could do with them was play Snake. And that got old.

You’d asked where she’d gotten the phones down here since you’d listened to more than one lecture about how there was no way out through the cavern, that she’d tried a hundred different ways, and Toriel had paused before answering.

“Sometimes I find things in the Ruins that don’t belong here, my dear. Every so often travelers far above will lose things in the start of this place, where you and Frisk fell, and over the years I have collected those things to learn more about what has changed in the world above.”

“How long have you been down here, Toriel?” you ask as the three of you tend to a garden in the courtyard of her home.

Toriel had smiled at you, covered in soft dirt up to her elbows. “A very long time. I have missed hundreds of thousands of sunrises by now.”

You’d needed an afternoon to process what she’d said, and part of you still was having trouble believing that this woman could be several hundreds of years old. Hell, even with the proof of the encounter with a real live ghost, the way the leaves went through an entire life cycle in the span of a few minutes on the tree in the courtyard, your logic wanted to disprove everything you’d seen. If anyone told you there was a magical world beneath Mt. Ebott and that attributed to the dozens of disappearances on this mountain, you would have accused them of huffing paint under the bleachers or eating funny mushrooms. But now you were living that reality whether you believed it or not. Believing, with a healthy amount of questions, was far simpler.

There isn’t a clock in your room and the brick of a phone is too far out of reach to check without sitting up, so you don’t have a way to tell how long you’d been trying to sleep. Frisk is out, even snuffling a snore here and there underneath the quilt they pulled over their head.

Resigned to the itching wakefulness plaguing you, you slowly slide out from under the covers and wander into the living room. The large chair by the fire looks warm and inviting. Toriel is so much larger than an average human that your feet wouldn’t come close to the floor sitting in her recliner. You want to curl up into it and pull the shawl hanging over one arm around you like a cocoon, soaking in the heat from the constantly crackling fireplace. As tempting the idea is, you have a feeling even in that spot you wouldn’t be able to sleep. You’d spotted a book in the pile Toriel set aside for what she called yours and Frisk’s ‘monster education’.

Old, text nearly worn away on the spine, the human social science book stands out among the well-kept books written in English and a text Toriel called the First Tongue. The book looks like it had been thrown away and you can’t make out the publishing date, or most of the information in the book for that matter, but you’re pretty confident it’s several decades old. It’s not what you need to relax since after several minutes you’re rubbing your temples. Words bleed together and you don’t understand why Toriel kept this book at all if every other page was illegible from water damage, or they were completely missing.

Next in the pile is a book with symbols and glyphs covering every page. You can’t read a word of it but the inscriptions look so beautiful and the illustrations so vibrant that you think you can use it to finally lull yourself to sleep.

Light from the fire fills the room with a soft glow that isn’t quite bright enough to read this by. An oil lamp sits next to a potted plant on the dining table. When you reach over to turn the light up enough to look at the words on the page, you look up into the hallway to the bedrooms and catch Toriel slowly opening her door and making her way towards you. Her snout-like mouth opens wide with a yawn. A small sound of surprise interrupts it as she catches sight of you at the common room’s table.

“Hello, my dear,” she says, coming to stand behind one of the other chairs. Sitting as you are, she towers over you, over seven feet of monster regarding you with a kinder look than you’d witnessed on most humans.  “Are you having trouble sleeping, as well?”

“I don’t sleep much,” you say with a shrug. “Insomnia.”

Toriel’s brows meet with a flash of concern. “Are you not comfortable here? I want you to be able to rest fully, my dear. From what I remember sleep is especially necessary for growing humans.”

“No, it’s not that Toriel, I promise,” you say, eager to reassure the woman who you’d started to trust more and more each day. The idea your susceptibility to sleeplessness disappointed Toriel made your stomach twist. “And don’t worry about that I think I’m fully grown by now. Nah, I haven’t slept well in a very long time. I’m usually up late studying or reading, stuff like that.”

Toriel takes a seat in the chair across from you, the concern softened from her gaze a bit. “Frisk told me some of what growing up has been like for the two of you. And what happened before the two of you fell to the Underground.”

The room suddenly feels much smaller and you stutter before taking your next breath.

“What almost happened was not Frisk’s fault, nor was it yours.” Toriel reaches across the table to take your hand in hers, prying it away from the book in your hands. “You are not responsible for the actions of others. The way you both care for each other is enough to melt an old woman’s heart.”

You can’t find any words to say, so you squeeze the hand holding yours a little tighter and feel the haze of frustration fade away to nothingness. It’s too much to look her in the eye for very long and you draw your hand back slowly to grip the book again. Toriel stands and moves away as you compose yourself.

How had she known _exactly_ what to say? Was that a monster thing, a magic thing, or just a Toriel thing? You’re sure it’s the latter.

Toriel shuffles out of view for several minutes, returning once the threat of tears leaves your throat with steaming mug in each hand. One is far larger than the other and she offers you the smaller of the two. You can smell it before she sets it in front of you, the rich hot chocolate filling your nose and lungs, warming you from head to toe before even taking a sip. Seated at her dining table, Toriel looked the exact right size, where your feet barely scraped the floor while seated. For several peaceful moments neither of you spoke, content to enjoy your drinks.

Is saying thank you enough to say after what she’d done to help her and after all the doubt you’d cast on her? The last few weeks have been some of the best in your life, minus the whole falling into a cavern and likely breaking several bones thing. It would have to be enough for now since your throat doesn’t seem to want you to talk much just now.

“Thank you, Toriel,” you say. Frisk started calling her mom several days ago but the affectation fell flat in your mouth whenever you considered saying it, too. That would be a little too much, even now.

Her nose wrinkles a bit into her snout when she smiles. Oh, that’s adorable. “Of course. Are you feeling better?”

“Loads,” you reply. The warmth you’d felt before just in proximity with the magical monster hot chocolate was spreading all over your body.

Like with all monster food your stomach didn’t feel as though you’d polished off a mug of cocoa. The science behind it eluded you and Toriel admitted she did not understand the nature of its effects on humans completely herself except that you would need to eat three times as much to get the other nutritions you needed to thrive. But with how much she liked to cook, and how delicious the food always was, in the end it was a win-win for everyone involved.

“I think I’ll grab a book to read and try to fall asleep,” you say.

“Would you like me to try reading to you? I understand it helps children to fall asleep.”

Your nose wrinkles a bit at being called a child again You were almost eighteen, only a month or so away from your birthday, in fact! Very nearly an adult! Toriel notices you distaste and laughs instead of being insulted.

“I understand, my dear. Here, let me help you pick something interesting to you.”

“Not too interesting,” you say, sliding off of your chair and walking your mug to the kitchen sink. “It’s supposed to help me sleep not keep me up longer.”

“That is fair,” Toriel says with a smile that makes her eyes glitter with mirth. “How about this one, then? It is a primary book for young monsters learning some of the basic information you need to read, write, and someday speak the First Tongue.”

The weight of her statement catches you off guard for a moment. Glossy and well-kept but very old, the book weighs heavily in your hands like the implications of your situation. “We really are staying down here forever, aren’t we?”

Toriel, about to sit down in her armchair, pauses then leans down to kneel at your level. Gravitas pours through her voice with conviction and grace. “The Underground keeps us, and it does not give up its claims lightly.”

Eye to eye with Toriel you try to breathe through the panic that wants to pull you like an undertow out into the sea of despair. You wouldn’t get accepted to your dream universities and go on to become a world-hopping anthropologist who was occasionally tapped as an expert for specials on the History Channel or National Geographic. Frisk wouldn’t get to be able to turn their hobby for robotics and mechanics into a career of their own. Instead of the entire world you were left with this strange world of magic and monsters restricted to what was only the size of your school’s campus. There are so many things you could think of you would not get to do.

But you have Frisk. They are here with you. And that’s all that really matters, in the end.

“Are you alright, my dear? Breathe with me, please.”

Oxygen rushes into your lungs as you match Toriel breath for breath. To your relief the panic passes quickly and without tears. The book is clutched close to your chest and you bury your face into it for a moment to collect yourself, hair falling around your face to hide.

“I’m okay,” you say in a small voice.

It’s not, really, but you’re keeping your head much better than you expect. It’s not logical but sometimes it feels good to lash out at the world when it’s unfair like this. But, right now, it doesn’t happen. The familiar bubble of the temper you often can’t control, it doesn’t start. You want to rage against the world for keeping you down here when there was so much you wanted to do! And Toriel, everyone stuck here, it wasn’t _fair_. The idea of giving up makes you feel a little sick but you can’t focus enough right now to even begin to think of a plan. Everything feels a little fuzzy from exhaustion catching up to you.

Your fingers ease a bit on the book and you look up to face Toriel again. “I think...I think I’d like to just go to bed, actually. I’ll look at this tomorrow.”

Toriel smoothes her paw over your forehead to push your hair out of your face, unsticking pieces here and there caught in your eyebrows and lashes. It tickles and sends a shiver up your spine, but the gesture is comforting and welcome. You lean into her as she walks you down the hall into the room you share with Frisk. Another true bed replaced the cot not long after you woke up. They’re as you left them, curled under the quilt and softly snoring here and there. When Toriel pulls the blankets up to your chin, placing the book on the dresser nearby, they stir a little and their hands twitch in half-formed words. She fluidly rearranges their sheets over them without waking them up, and before she’s shut the door behind her, the magical hot chocolate begins to lull you to sleep.

The last thought before succumbing to the sandman is a loop of what Toriel said that threw you into a tailspin - _the Underground does not give up its claims lightly_.

Whether she meant to say it that way or not, you clutched it like a lifeline. There is a chance, a chance to get everyone out, and you are determined to find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/) (I do take requests, just saying)
> 
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Mild panic attack, reference to but no description of attempted assault.
> 
> Hey there! Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every kudo, hit, subscription, bookmark and especially every single comment. Got questions? Concerns? Constructive comments? Leave 'em below. They do so much to keep this story going.


	7. Enemy Approaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

Crushed velvet doesn’t seem the most practical thing to wear around the Ruins but after Toriel presents the two of you with a set of clothes like hers, you concede and are almost instantly sold on how comfortable they feel. As much as the three of you traversed the Ruins each day, learning more about monsters, magic, and collecting food, it all had taken a toll on the few clothes you had. With bright white leggings underneath what feels more like a tunic than the robes you had to wear for choir during Sunday mass, the outfit is cozy in the slight chill of the Ruins and you’re able to move more freely than the jeans and shirts you were cycling through. Frisk proves this immediately by skipping and leaping around the front room, laughing as they signed their thanks. 

“I am very happy you like them, my child,” Toriel says, scooping Frisk up into her arms as they run past again. She nuzzles her snout under their chin, holding them close.

_ Put me down!  _ Frisk signs as they giggle, squirming this way and that until they were on their feet again.  _ Can we go to the golden flowers now _ ?

The walk from the house to the start of the Ruins is familiar by now. For the last week you’d gone by yourself several times through the strange purple caverns back to the place you and Frisk fell down. Nothing changed except the growth of small mushrooms and herbs at the far corners of the cave where sunlight never fully reached. Toriel had been very nervous the first time you and Frisk went together without her and even moreso when it was one of you at a time, but she had explained at dinner she wanted to test your independence and both of you had passed with flying colors.

Toriel said she had to check another part of the Ruins she’d not brought you to yet today, the near-empty city you can see from a balcony running behind her home. Your curiosity needled at you, encouraging you to follow after her instead of moving on to do your chores, but you trusted Toriel. It had grown slowly, but the trust you held in the towering goat monster was stronger for it.

“Call me if you need me and I will be at your side,” she says when you part ways in the courtyard. “And say hello to any monsters you see along the way for me!”

Frisk salutes to her and grins, lopsided and affectionate.  _ Will do, goat-mom _ .

Together, you and Frisk move through puzzles you’re familiar with by now, chatting comfortably. Empty packs hit your backs, ready to be filled with whatever foodstuffs you can find on your trip. The anticipation each time you do this of the chance someone else had fallen puts a spring in your steps. This time the novelty of wearing matching outfits dominated your conversation. Doing it by choice was unusual because, really, as twins it got a bit sickening how many foster parents tried the same stunts, and you both avoided it subconsciously at this point. It helped that Frisk’s fashion sense was always a little more “out there” than yours.

The light in the Ruins doesn’t hurt your eyes now so you don’t have to squint as you make your way around. Frisk spots Napstablook floating near the rock family but they disappear before the two of you get close enough to call out to them, so instead you pause to greet the faceless boulders instead.

“Hey, pardners! Good to see you today!”

Distinguishing which rock speaks when is almost impossible to spot for you. Frisk always seems to get it right the first time and carries on in sign language. You watch greedily and try to figure out how something without eyes can understand a language told almost exclusively through visuals.

“Watch out there up ahead, friends, the froggits are practicing their encounters today by the sounds of it. Take care!”

Since your first time meeting Napstablook, you haven't experienced another of the monster encounters. The purple glow from your chest is in almost all of your dreams and sometimes the glowing red of Frisk is there, too. It’s a puzzle you still don’t understand. Toriel explained it’s a visual representation of your Soul but without the ability to see it at will, you’re working on blind faith, and that had never been one of your strong suits. Frisk can process new information and accept it without question while you needed a little more time, a few more answers, before making your choice. And then, sometimes even with miles of proof, you can’t sway Frisk. The two of your are as opposite as can be on that front.

As it is, you want to see your Soul again and see if every encounter is the same. For science, of course.

“Hey, Frisk?” you ask as the two of you move on.

Their shoulder bumps into yours as you walk.  _ What’s up _ ?

“You think maybe we can go check out those froggits?”

Frisk looks at you with a grin that grows into a full smile.

_ Absolutely. _

In retrospect it’s ridiculously easy to run into the froggits and the two of you stumble into an encounter with them as soon as you stopped trying. 

***Froggit hops close. Life is difficult for this enemy.**

“Enemy?” you whisper to Frisk. 

By now you can’t see each other, but you can feel them shrug since you were holding onto their hand. The red of their Soul is almost as blinding as the purple of your own. It’s hard to pull your gaze away from them, though when the Froggit attacks, your decision is made for you. Frisk keeps hold of your hand and uses it to guide you side to side to avoid the little shapes flying from Froggit’s side of the encounter. You’re careful to keep your other hand almost glued to your side to avoid accidentally hitting any of the hazy words on the bottom of your vision. On your left Frisk jerks to the side and you experience the same sensation you had with the words you could feel more than see. * **ACT** ... **COMPLIMENT** .

_ You have a lovely complexion, Froggit _ .

There’s not a voice when Frisk compliments the monster so much as a mimicry of the knowledge you’d read their signs correctly, a feeling so common and simple it was almost impossible to describe. As if you were interpreting feelings instead of signs or words. It’s the same sensation that happened during the encounter with Napstablook.

***Froggit didn’t understand what you said, but was flattered anyway** _. _

“This is so cool,” you mutter, shaking with excitement even as you dodge another attack. “I shouldn’t be giddy over getting attacked by a monster  _ but this is so cool _ !”

Another turn passes and you feel Frisk reach around you as their red Soul drifts closer. A large image appears in front of you with the word  ***SPARE** dominating your vision with beautiful gold lettering. In another breath, the black and white stage falls away, and the glow of your Souls goes with it. The Froggit cocks its head at you before hopping off to join the others. 

_ I don’t think any of them are hostile here anymore _ , Frisk signs. 

“No, I don’t think so either.”

They reach into a pocket of the tunic to open a spider cider for each of you. After deciding to go along with your idea, Frisk said you had to stop to get something in case either of you were hurt. It’s cool and refreshing even if neither of you were hit that much by the attacks. 

“Thanks,” you say, gesturing to the cider. The two of you lean against a wall for a moment’s rest. Just another few rooms and you’d be as close as you could get to the Surface. A glance at your blocky phone’s screen shows it’s close to lunchtime and you push off the wall to keep moving. “We’d better get going. Toriel didn’t mention how long her errands would take her and she expects us back in a couple hours.”

_ Did you get what you wanted _ ? Frisk asks.

You sign  _ maybe _ before continuing, brushing shoulders with them again as you crossed a narrow ledge, backs against the wall as you shuffled across. “I don’t really know what I was looking for, honestly, but I had to see our Souls again. Can you see them?”

_ Yeah, they’re super bright red and purple but more than that at the same time _ ?

“Right? Exactly! It’s more than light or color it’s…”

_ Everything _ ? Frisk takes your hand on the last step to steady you.  _ Almost too much _ ?

“Yes, oh my god, yes. I’m so glad you can see it.”

_ Me, too _ .

The archway into the enormous cavern yawns before you. Jesus, it’s so high, the ceiling so far above your heads. Looking up you can feel the knot of your ponytail hit your backpack...

Frisk waves a hand in front of your face.  _ Earth to _________ _ ,  _ you with me _ ?

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, distracted, adjusting the straps over your shoulders, still looking up. It’s near noon so the bright disc of the opening above is dim, the sun still on the other side of the mountain. “It’s so damn high up, I don’t know how we survived that.”

Spinning with a dramatic twirl of their tunic, Frisk faces you and repeatedly signs  _ magic _ ! You lightly shove them but can’t stop a grin. Damn them.

“Wacko. Let’s look over there, we haven’t harvested anything on that side since last week.”

_ Okay, race you there _ !

“Seriously, Frisk?” They’re already pumping their legs as fast as they can go across the floor of the cavern before you can ask, “Wait, no!”

Running through flowers is not as easy as actors onscreen make it look and you nearly trip to fall flat on your face twice. Of course Frisk beats you to the rock outcropping you’d pointed out, all shit-eating grins and trying not to breathe too hard to pretend it was easier to beat you than it was. You wouldn’t lay down for their teasing! 

“Do you think Toriel is as old as Asgore, Frisk? She knows so much about what happened before the Barrier.”

_ Definitely. And you know what, the way she talks about him, I’m pretty sure she used to be a lot closer to him. I asked her that the other night and, well, she looked very sad and said I was right but to never forget a king does terrible things to help his people. She said that’s why she isn’t still with him. _

You blink and think on that while keeping your hands busy. “I wonder what he did that was so terrible. Do you think he’s in that city near the house, Home? She’s told us never to go there without her and hasn’t brought us there yet.”

Frisk looks more serious than normal and yanks a little harder on a root than what was necessary.  _ No. I think he’s a lot further away than that. _

“How do you know that?” you ask, suspicious.

_ Know what? _

“About Asgore. About a lot of things down here, actually. You’re just...you’re taking all of this so easily.”

Frisk digs at the ground for another second or so before answering, fingers and nails full of soft dirt.  _ I’m able to be myself here, _________ _ . _ Not once has anyone questioned me about...how I look or how I dress, why I can’t see very well, why I don’t use my voice, nothing. Unless I want to tell them. It’s more than I can say for any human. _

“I didn’t realize...I’m sorry. I was assuming. Frisk, I-”

_ Hey. _ Frisk puts their hands on yours and squeezes for a second before continuing. _ Don’t worry about it. _

“But I should have paid better attention! I’ve been so focused on how I’m feeling about all of this that I’ve been ignoring you.”

_ Ignoring me? Oh, my god, no it just...hasn’t come up yet. Stop blaming yourself. Seriously. You do that too much. _

Moment broken, Frisk smiles and turns back to the patch of dirt in front of you. The two of you make quick work of gathering a few roots Toriel advised weren’t sentient or poisonous, the same for a veritable buffet of mushrooms. Half of them were bioluminescent, odd shapes almost like stars, or so spindly you were afraid they’d disintegrate on the walk back.

Sunlight glitters far above as you head back to the archway with full knapsacks. Both of you stand and stare at it in silence for a minute, silently wishing there was a way up and out. Frisk turned after a minute or two, and stares at the shadow of the Ruins looming above, their jaw set and mouth a stubborn line. 

The beauty of the room is clear even with the pain you associate it with. There's a bloom of guilt in your chest when you realize every day you spend Underground makes you miss the surface a little less. Before you can entertain that thought for too long, Frisk loops their arm in yours so you can guide them back out of the cavern and head back home.

Neither of you notice one of the golden flowers watching you as intently as you watch the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart)
> 
>  
> 
> tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/) (I do take requests, just saying)
> 
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon-typical violence, reference to misgendering and stereotyping.
> 
> Hey, guys! I really appreciate every interaction to this fic. Please let me know if you're confused on anything, would like to see something with the characters, anything. Your interactions help shape what this story could become.


	8. Heartache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?
> 
> But not really not at all
> 
>  
> 
> [Here's something nice to listen to while you read!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tYOpXE3rsJs)
> 
> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

Napstablook hums softly as they float through the courtyard in front of Toriel’s home. His over sized headphones are the easiest part of him to see as he slowly slips through the trees, avoiding the large blackened one at the center, close to fully incorporeal and completely invisible each time he goes through a solid object. The flowerbeds in front of the porch house dozens of happy snails munching on plants Toriel specifically planted for them. She’s off on a grocery run in the city of Home several chambers away, while you and Frisk sit on the porch to complete the homework she’d assigned before leaving. 

Today is monster anatomy and diet for you while Frisk devoured a book about how the architecture in the Underground was developed over one thousand years ago as monsters began to ensconce themselves away from humans. For the most part, monsters were vegans or vegetarians with very few exceptions, such as snail pie, though this custom is noted to have risen only after the city of Home was built. The snails used in recipes were not sentient monsters, unlike the spider ingredients you’d learned helped make up the bake sale items. You suspected the changes in diet were a necessity of living below the earth with limited agricultural options after the Barrier was created, but the spider tradition dated back so far there weren’t solid references to why it started.

And that. The Barrier. Even reading academic texts on the subject made you feel heavy, guilty, and embarrassed at what humans were capable of in the past. You’re honestly not surprised that a few humans gifted with powerful magic acted on behalf of the rest of the race and trapped an entire other species under the mountains. The reasoning is varied, but it all comes back to traits and actions you’d personally witnessed countless times before falling down: jealousy, fear, misunderstanding, judgement, and hate, to name a few. No wonder something fueled by such hateful magic had persisted for so long - whatever notions that created it existed in droves in the hearts of humans. Certainly was true for the racist and ignorant comments you and Frisk endured in every school, almost every foster home...

As your thoughts took a sharp and negative turn, you put the book down for a breather. 

At some point your breather turns into a nap while curled up on the bench across from Frisk. You blink slowly and stretch, pushing yourself upright and almost right through the ghost monster at your side.

“Oh no...did I wake you?”

“Mmmm no, Blooky,” you say, sure to smile at the nervous ghost. Their proximity startled you but you didn’t move away. “I was just ready to wake up, I think. I liked the song though, you can keep humming if you want.”

Their cartoonish eyes waver a bit as they stare at you, then turn to absently play with one of the hanging vines above your heads. “Oh...no, I should go...you don’t need to worry about me...I’m sure you have other things to do...”

Before you can reassure them, they float through the far wall you vaguely understand as the direction of the part of the Ruins you’d first met them. Without Napstablook the open space in front of the house seems emptier and much quieter.

Frisk huffs a quiet laugh with a fond smile directed where the ghost disappeared. Setting their book down they sign,  _ Poor Blooky. We should try to visit with him more often _ .

“They...he? Oh, okay, he does his own thing.”

_ Yeah, he prefers he and him pronouns. He’s just so… _

When they struggle to find the right sign, you supply, “Introverted? He’s insecure and introverted. I’m surprised he stuck around this lo-o-ng.” A huge yawn interrupts you and you cringe back when Frisk reaches over to try and put their finger up your nose. “Quit that! Oh my god, grow up, you terror!”

You retaliate by tickling behind their ear because you know they  _ hate _ that! You both breathe hard from laughing after a few minutes of trying to torture each other. In the quiet your pre-nap musings come back, erasing the smile from your face.

“Hey, Frisk?”

They hum to let you know they can hear you, head tilted back against the wall of the house and eyes closed.

“Humans were pretty awful to monsters in the past. I can’t help but...they treated them just like minorities are treated now. Reading that, it sucks. Humans...we suck.”

_ Yeah. Humans are pretty awful to each other. Every book Toriel has on us isn’t...they aren’t kind. But I don’t think we deserved it, you know? Toriel has been nothing but kind to us since we literally fell into what amounts as her backyard. _

“Toriel’s the best.”

Frisk signs what translates roughly to  _ goat-mom-best-mom _ .

“Yeah, no kidding.” You freeze for a second and burst out laughing. “Oh, my god, I did not just do that!  _ Kid _ -ding? She...holy shit she looks like a goat!”

_ That was awesome _ , Frisk signed, laughing just as hard as you are. They flick their head to get their long bangs out of their eyes, looking for a second like some stupid boy-band member.

“You need a haircut, you’re starting to look like Justin Bieber again,” you tease, shoving their thigh with your feet.

_ Ugh, what is it with you and that old guy, he’s not even that good-looking anymore! _

With a gasp of sibling-fueled rage, you push harder with your feet to try to shove Frisk off the other end of the bench, yelling, “There’s nothing wrong with Classic Pop!”

* * *

 

Dinner is delicious as always, conversation flowing easily across the table in sign and spoken word. Toriel doesn’t share many details about the time she spends shopping in the city not far in the Ruins though she acts tired, so tired, after each visit she takes there. She asks the two of you questions on your studies for that day like a teacher capturing what her students understood of the material and what to do better the next time or to go over again.

As you’re finishing the dishes with Frisk, you see Toriel stand in the next room and carry the large pile of finished books away, so you dry your hands and motion to Frisk that you’ll be right back.

“Toriel, let me help you with those,” you say, arms extended.

She looks over her shoulder at you with a smile. “Thank you, but I can take care of these myself. No need to follow me. Go back to the kitchen, please.”

Her delivery is as gentle as always but the finality in her tone tells you the conversation is over. The directive is clear and precise. You don’t know what you did wrong but as Toriel stops and stares at you, you get the feeling she wants you to drop the subject and go back to helping Frisk immediately. It feels like a slap on the wrist and makes your stomach bottom out. What did you say wrong?

Frisk catches your expression as soon as you reenter the kitchen. Lifting their hands out of the soapy water, bright yellow gloves squeaking, they sign,  _ What happened, are you ok? _

It’s stupid, really, but your throat is catching too much to answer with your voice so you move closer so they can see your hands clearly.  _ I asked Toriel if she wanted help and...I don’t know, I feel silly, but I feel like I did something bad. _

_ Was she taking the books back downstairs? _

_ Yeah, actually _ . 

Frisk sighs, breath blowing their hair away from their eyes, and before sticking their hands back into the sink, they say,  _ She doesn’t want us down there, didn’t tell me why. _

Picking up the towel you’d left behind you start to dry as they pass dishes over again. The lump in your throat is gone now but your ego still feels bruised. It’s enough to find your voice again. You pitch it quiet enough to not carry into the next room. You’re close enough to Frisk they can hear, anyway.

“It felt...really personal, when she said she didn’t want help. I’ve never had a reason to go down there and I figured because it’s been blocked off we weren’t allowed but...isn’t that kind of weird?”

The water drains with an obnoxious sucking sound, startling you.

Frisk shrugs, pulling off the rubber gloves and moving to put dishes back in their places. The two of you have to scoot step stools around the kitchen in order to comfortably reach the countertops and cabinets, another aspect of living in a home with someone that stands two feet taller than you. Hands preoccupied, they don’t get a chance to reply to you before Toriel returns, offering to make the three of you mugs of cocoa as dessert. It’s like the moment of discomfort never happened between you in the hall, and still feeling a little off-kilter, you accept.

“Frisk? Why won’t Toriel let us go to Home or the basement of this house?”

For the first time the hot chocolate does nothing to cure your insomnia. From the sounds of rustling in the bed across from yours, Frisk is immune to it tonight as well. You were able to let the anxiety of the moment go as you three sat in front of the fire, cuddled under homemade blankets with your steaming mugs, but now in the half-light of the bedroom all the negative feelings come boiling back to the surface.

Light flares to life on their side of the room so when they roll over on the mattress, they can make out your face and you can see their hands move.

_ Have you asked her _ ?

“No? Why, did you?”

_ Same kind of thing happened the other day when you were out in the Ruins doing...something, I don’t remember, but Toriel and I were cleaning here. She said she had to go out for a few minutes and whatever I did to not go into the basement. I asked why not and she just said it isn’t safe. _

“Doesn’t that sound kind of...fishy?” you ask, propping up on one arm. “This whole situation is...honestly it’s weird as fuck. But it works and I don’t feel like she’s keeping us against her will but, doesn’t blocking off the basement feel like, I don’t know, Beast telling Belle not to go into the West Wing?”

Frisk blinks slowly over at you.  _ Poking around in the west wing didn’t go so well for Belle. _

“Ugh, no, but seriously, aren’t you a little curious now?”

_ Well, duh. _

“But? I am sensing a but.”

_ Aren’t you happy here? Why do you want to poke around places we aren’t welcome? _

“Frisk. We...we can’t stay here forever.”

Their eyes spark in the darkness as they sit up, pushing up enough that their legs swing over the side of the bed.  _ Why not? Aren’t you happy here _ ?

“This place is the happiest I’ve been in a long time. A  _ very _ long time, Frisk. I just, there’s a whole world up there waiting for us and...what if we found a way to free Toriel? And the other monsters in the Ruins? What if there’s a way to bring them to the surface again?”

Frisk’s eyes narrow at you, obscured slightly by their bangs, but they don’t bother pushing the faded blue and brown strands out of the way. It’s precision, a steely focus, one you’ve seen on their face while tinkering with this or that doodad while they work out how it ticks.    _ I’m listening. _

“All of the books Toriel’s been assigning us to read, they all mention the Barrier at least in passing, right? There isn’t a lot of detail but I get the idea they’ve tried to break it and get back to the surface, once they realized they couldn’t get out. Some monsters were trapped on the outside! How awful is that?”

_ Wait, you mean like the Minotaur and Nessie, right? I read that one, too.  _

“Yes! Exactly! There has to be a way to undo this, there’s always a way to unlock a spell, right?”

Frisk laughs through their nose. Pushing backwards they lean against the wall to get more comfortable.  _ In books and movies, yeah. But this shit is real. Magic is real down here! And humans made the barrier, so who knows, maybe in real life there were better contingency plans in place _ .

“That’s just it though, humans made it, so it’s probably flawed or they had a god-complex and maybe...what, well we fell down here and survived didn’t we? That’s something! And other humans did, too, so if a human can get in then-”

_ Humans can get out. _

The only sound in the room is your breathing and the ambient sounds you’ve come to associate with the Underground. You both sit and think for a few minutes until you say what’s been bothering you since the moment with Toriel.

“Toriel said this wasn’t the only part of the Underground. She said ‘the Underground does not give up its claims lightly’. That means there’s a chance! And the Ruins and Home are only the beginning. I think the way to the rest and to maybe find answers is going to be in the basement or through the city since she’s been keeping us from going there. My money's on the basement of this house.”

_ How long has this been stewing inside your head _ ? Frisk teases. You roll your eyes at them and open your mouth to ask them to be serious for  _ one second _ before they continue.  _ I think you’re right. What time is it _ ? 

“Frisk it’s right there you can see it better than I can-”

_ Midnight. Toriel’s probably asleep. Want to check it out? _

“What, now? Like right now?”

But they were already out of the covers and pulling their pajamas off to put on another set of clothes Toriel made for you two, this time long dark leggings under the dark purple tunic, the delta rune stitched painstakingly on the front. You’re barely out from under the covers when they’re bouncing on the balls of their feet to pull on the thick soled shoes that wrapped up your calves and over top of the pants. Frisk bounces impatiently on the balls of their feet as you change, too, facing away from you to give you privacy. 

Opening the door is the trickiest part; the hinges creak if it’s opened too quickly. The two of you have plenty of practice sneaking in and out of rooms together so while you held your breath, getting into the hallway was a cinch. To your left, Toriel’s door was shut tight without a flicker of light underneath to indicate she was awake. Backs against the wall to avoid any potential creaking floorboards, you follow Frisk as they lead the way from your room to the foyer, and the yawning entrance of the basement staircase. Walking by this every day, you don’t remember ever looking down into the space below like you were now, as if you’d never actually noticed it before. There’s nothing barring your way except the internal push and pull of curiosity tempered with nerves.

_ Ready _ _?_ Frisk signs over their shoulder before taking the first step.

You nod with finality, slowly letting out a breath you’d been holding far too long.  _ Ready. _

Nothing seems off or different about the hallway you enter except that it appears the same as the corridors outside in the Ruins, purple hues shining with an ethereal light without shadow.Ambient sound is muffled here and the silence is almost oppressive on your eardrums. You are aware of every breath you and Frisk take in this close space. Several bookshelves with hundreds of books press against the walls at the foot of the stairs where smooth, warm colored wood meets hard purple stone. The spines of these are almost entirely in the symbols of the First Tongue, the language of monsters and magic. Trying to read them made your brain itch, like there was an entire puzzle in front of you but the most important pieces are missing, the whole picture just out of reach. 

Frisk tugs on your sleeve to get your attention, pointing to the end of the hall. Torches line the wall further down, no other furniture or decorations line the walls. At the end is a large set of doors with the same rune etched into them that adorns your tunics.

In front of the door, blocking the way, stands Toriel.

Already ten steps ahead of you, Frisk walks down the hall toward her, purpose and determination in every step. Her back is turned so she faces the stone doors but you doubt she hadn’t noticed the two of you coming down the stairs. You feel so guilty - this is the one place she’d asked the two of you not to go! - but her lack of reaction emboldens you.

She starts to speak without turning around as Frisk reaches the small foyer with the doors, you hot on their trail. “You wish to know how to return ‘home’, do you not? Ahead of us lies the end of the Ruins and the safety of my home. It is a one-way exit to the rest of the Underground. I am going to destroy it. No one will be able to leave here again. Now, be good children and go upstairs.”

“Frisk?” you whisper, tugging on their sleeve, still looking at Toriel’s back. She’s never sounded like this when speaking to either of you and for the first time in weeks, you’re truly afraid.

Frisk rolls their shoulder to nudge your hand away from them. You look over and try to catch their gaze, but you can’t think of a word to stay, their body language as tightly wound as a piano wire, gaze locked on Toriel. When the two of you don’t move away, she turns to face you, sadness overlapping the stern set of her jaw.

“Every human that falls down here meets the same fate. I have seen it again and again. They come, they leave. They die.” 

Her voice falters for just a moment but she does not back down. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Frisk, you don’t either. 

“You naive children...if you leave the Ruins...they - Asgore - will kill you. I am only protecting you, do you understand? They wish to take your Souls to break the Barrier. Please. Go to your room.”

“What?” you ask in a small voice. None of the books said anything about needing human Souls! “Is that what happened to the others who left?”

Toriel nods, the incline of her head spilling a single tear to fall down the side of her snout, leaving a shining track in her pearly white fur. This is not how you’d expected this adventure to go, seeking answers and satisfying your curiosity. Pressure builds in your head like a distant police siren, growing louder every second that passes. As afraid as you are, there’s something stronger inside of you. You and Frisk fell here for a reason. You’d survived that fall for a reason. As naive as Toriel though you were, and as conceited as it made you feel, you knew there was more to this and nothing can stand in your way when you catch a scent. Frisk stands like a rock next to you and you bolster them with a brush of your shoulder. Whatever happened tonight, you would face it together.

“Do not try to stop me. This is your final warning.”

Frisk’s fingers curl to lace with yours.

A great weight settles itself on Toriel’s shoulders, a sense of age and weariness pulling her down. You’ve never seen her look as if she could be thousands of years old but in this instant, you believe it. 

“You want to leave so badly? Hmph. You both are just like the others. There is only one solution to this. Prove yourselves...prove to me you are strong enough to survive.” Her hand twitches at her side and she cocks her head, eyes narrowed. You feel hyper aware of every movement she makes. “Wait...why are you looking at me like that? Like you have seen a ghost. Do you know something that I do not? No...that is impossible. Prove yourselves!”

***Toriel blocks the way!**

Darkness blankets you as the encounter drops, drawing the light of your Souls into sharp relief. That pressure is close to bursting behind your eyes, something that is not painful, but you would do anything to make it stop! You suck in a breath between your teeth, grit against the discomfort and the sudden loss of normal vision. Toriel stands across from you, every bit of her as stark white as her fur, clothing and all, and she stands in wait of your move.

_ Follow me, _ Frisk says. The pressure bubble pops and you feel you can breathe again. What just happened? Frisk’s fingers smooth over yours where you can still feel your physical bodies connect. In the dark of the magical encounter you press back against their hand to show you heard them.  _ She can’t hear me unless I want her to, but you have to do exactly as I say. _

***Toriel looks through you.**

You squeeze their hand again, unsure if speaking aloud would allow Toriel to hear you. In all of the encounters you’d entered together in the Ruins, you could always hear Frisk the same way you can hear and feel music floating in this limbo-like place.

“Fight me or leave!”

Her attacks are swift, and more dangerous than any of the ones you’d had to dodge before. Bright white against the encompassing blackness. It takes all of your previous practice to manage to not get hit more than once or twice. Frisk moves with fluidity, sharp jerks of their hand in yours guiding you through it, and each time you understand it’s your turn again, they tell you to hit the SPARE option as fast as you can.

“I know you want to go home but, but please! Go upstairs now!” 

***Toriel is acting aloof.**

***SPARE**

The next attack singes your soul and you can see your HP, normally full at twenty, drop another three points. You can’t tell if Frisk has been hit as much as you, where their HP is, without wasting a turn. The moment you’d considered checking them instead of sparing, they’d sharply jerked on your hand enough to hurt, pushing you towards  **SPARE** instead of  **ACT** , so you hadn’t tried that again.

“I promise I will take good care of you here. I know we do not have much, but...we can have a good life here.”

***SPARE**

“Why are you making this so difficult? Please, go upstairs…”

Your body aches from the exertion, but you choose to spare her again and again until the attacks don’t even come close to hitting either of your souls.

“Ha ha...pathetic, is it not? I cannot even save a single child, how could I save both of you? No. I understand. You would just be unhappy trapped down here. The Ruins are very small once you get used to them. It would not be right for you to grow up in a place like this. My expectations, my loneliness, my fear...for you, my children, I will put them aside.”

The veil of black lifts, taking the rest of the pressure inside of you with it. You’re having trouble breathing and you realize it’s because you’re crying, so you wipe at your eyes with a sleeve, the crushed velvet soft against your cheek. Frisk is trembling slightly next to you, their hand still in yours, and even the uncomfortable feeling of sweat between your palms from dodging the heat of her fire attacks can’t make you let go.

She stands with her shoulders hunched, gazing down at the two of you with eyes that betray her own tears. 

“You both are stronger than I thought. Listen to me, small ones. If you go beyond this door, keep walking as far as you can. Eventually, you will reach an exit. Asgore,” her voice falters, and your hand automatically lifts to comfort her, but she presses on and your hand falls awkwardly back to your side. “Do not let Asgore take your souls. His plan cannot be allowed to succeed! Be good, won’t you? My children, if you truly wish to leave the Ruins...I will not stop you. However, when you leave, please do not come back. I hope you understand. Please, be good.”

Don’t come back? The words die in your tear-choked throat before you can speak them, and the next thing you know Toriel is right there, holding both of you tight, lifting you into her arms and your fingers are tangled into her fur instead of Frisk’s hand. A dull scent of a campfire permeates the air around her, warm and comforting and everything you’d ever associated with her and her wonderful hugs. It feels too final, it’s almost too much to bear, but with a look into Frisk’s eyes as she sets you down...

You’re filled with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/) (I do take requests, just saying)
> 
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon-typical violence
> 
> I definitely pulled information straight from the Toriel In Battle information for this to make it as accurate to in-game as possible. Yes, this is set ten years after the actions of canon, and there is already a lot of divergence, but there will be things you'll recognize from the game.
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments! Any theories so far? Any questions? I would love to hear what you favorite parts are so far. Every view and kudos makes me so happy but comments definitely fuel me to keep writing.
> 
> Much love, and happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrated yesterday.


	9. sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“How is it snowing under a mountain?”

_ Magic, probably _ .

“That excuse is getting really old, really fast.”

Frisk scoffs, adjusting the pack on their back to a more comfortable position. You wear the one the two of you had fallen with, something from a month ago. Time felt different, at times bloated or too thin, without the ability to follow the sun.

Neither of you make a move to step away from the enormous stone door’s you’d just walked out of. After your encounter, Toriel had rushed back upstairs into the house and likely locked herself in her room. Frisk took a bit of convincing, but you’d insisted on following her, hoping her final warning was exaggerated. You wanted to help monsters, to free them! But if what she said was true, that it required human souls to break the Barrier, what did that mean for you and Frisk? 

“It’s fucking freezing out here.”

_ Duh, it’s snowing. Snow everywhere. _

“Captain Obvious.”

_ Captain Obnoxious _ .

“Yeah well, eff you, too, Frisk.”

Both of you wear the hoods of your jackets pulled up and over your heads, the fabric loose enough to fall over your faces just enough you had to turn to speak to each other. At first you felt guilty for taking the clothes Toriel made for you during your stay. When Frisk noticed your hesitation, they said it’s best to remove everything you could that would remind Toriel of the two of you, that it might make this all easier. You’d agreed and meticulously packed everything you could call yours in the little room you’d called home for a month, ignoring the feeling that Frisk was making a pretty far leap assuming what was best for the monster you were leaving behind. The jump from addressing her as mom to hastily packing a bag to leave, explicitly against her wishes, had you dizzy.

The heavy purple and black clothes are sturdy and better made than anything you’d ever owned, but the satin inner lining wasn’t designed to keep a human body warm, so you were starting to shiver. 

And, well, you were stalling. 

“Remind me why we decided to wear this instead of our jeans and other...human clothes? At least our tennis shoes?”

Frisk looks to their left and right before answering, adjusting the pack again like a nervous tick.  _ I have a hunch. _

“Oh, good,” you mutter, teeth threatening to chatter. Your arms wrap tightly around your torso and the feeling of velvet on velvet makes gives you a fresh wave of goosebumps. “We should move, keep the blood flowing.”

_ Lead the way _ .

There really is only one way, from what you can see, as a solid wall of rock stretches as far as you can see to your back, tall trees on either side, and a clear path through the snow in front of you. Snow continues to fall in gentle patterns overhead, lingering for a second or two on your shoulders and hoods before melting away. The air feels so much different here than in the Ruins. It never tasted stale or musty like you suppose a cave system full of fungal plant life should, but out here it tasted brighter, bigger, and if you could give electricity a taste, that would be this. 

Sound is muffled because of the snow. You’re relieved this part of the Underground doesn’t require you to squint like you’d done in the Ruin corridors, so your eyes get a break. The light off the snow glows like the promise of dawn without the colors of sunlight. It takes some focus but you’re able to ignore the rustling of your clothing and the crunch of your feet over the frozen ground. Sounds you associate with a forest of enormously tall trees are missing; no birds chirping, no breeze rustling the needles, nothing.

Until a branch snaps behind you.

“Who’s there?” you say as you turn. “Show yourself!” 

Wow, you don’t sound intimidating  _ at all _ .

_ Bad idea _ , Frisk signs. Their hand finds your wrist, cold bare skin on cold bare skin.

Nothing moves. The steam from your breath clouds around your faces in lingering clouds, but you can’t hear any other sounds above the air moving through your lungs.

Footsteps slowly crunch behind you and you freeze - well, figuratively, considering the temperature already makes you feel stiff and frozen - Frisk reacting the same way next to you. Inside your chest your Soul feels heavier than normal, and you can feel your shoulders hunch forward slightly. Your feet won’t cooperate so you’re forced to listen to the methodical steps get closer and closer. They’re taking their time. Cautious? 

Or a cat playing with it’s prey?

As sharply as the twig snapping before, darkness falls around the two of you. An encounter! Already? You could still clearly see the door to the Ruins in the distance before your vision was obscured in the magical darkness. You keep hold of Frisk’s hand as you turn to face the monster who’d brought you into this odd liminal space.

A skeleton. White and stark against the vantablack around you, just like every other monster you’d ever encountered, their clothes and body draw your complete attention. The feeling of being in incredible danger even keeps you from gazing at the purple and red lights of your Souls, normally something you have to fight to ignore. An unholy fear crawls up your back as you stare into empty eye sockets that are aren’t black, oh no, they’re the absence of anything. An absence that wants to swallow you whole.

“Frisk…” you whimper. Your jaw is tight from fear and cold. The sparking light from your Souls is just at the edges of your vision, and you don’t have time to wonder why you see blue mixing in with the red and purple, assuming it’s a trick of the light here.

Frisk’s hand twists in yours so it slips from your wrist to wrap your fingers together. The hold is comforting and familiar and lifts some of the weight from your Soul. Gripping them back tightly, you try to think of what to do, but keep staring at the monster across from you.

The skeleton stands with their hands in the pockets of an ill-fitting jacket with a fluffy collar, long shorts and loose socks the only things covering his legs. Hysterically you think  _ he must be frozen to the bone! _ But you can’t speak or laugh with that gaze fixed on the two of you. There’s no indication of pupils to follow in those horrifying eye sockets resting above a too-wide smile with too-big teeth, but you can feel his gaze dart from you to Frisk and back again by the change of pressure in the air and on your Soul.

“Frisk, what do we do?”

_ Act. It’s our turn first. _

“Can you move? Can you reach the ACT indicator?”

As you speak you watch the skeleton’s head tilt a little, as if they’re trying to listen in to your side, but from the little you know of this experience through training in the Ruins and Toriel’s books, the opposite participant can’t hear unless you allow them. Frisk is moving, reaching for something on your other side. You wait for something to happen, trusting them to make the first move.

The waiting feels unbearable and your thoughts turn over and over like a sputtering engine that won’t catch. There wasn’t the greeting you were used to at the start of an encounter, telling you who this is, giving any sort of hint of what to expect, and the gentle refrains of music are missing as well. Each monster you’d encountered had their own that matched their personality beautifully. The implication of the silence here is unsettling. Without that you’re at a loss and the only thing keeping your frayed nerves from snapping is the connection you feel with Frisk.

***CHECK**

***Sans. 1 ATK, 1 DEF. The easiest enemy. Can only deal 1 damage.**

You feel that was probably a terrible waste of your side’s turn, and you open your mouth to say so to Frisk, but Sans is up and you can’t pull your eyes away.

“your move, kiddos.”

His voice is husky, like it comes from a place deep in his chest. The lines around his mouth that serve as lips don’t seem to move as he speaks but in this space, the encounter, you can’t even see your own body so you take everything with a grain of salt. More like a bucket of salt but who’s counting anymore?

Posture unchanged, Sans waits for your next move. The sensation of  _ wrong wrong wrong _ crawls up and down your spine as a warning, but Toriel’s voice pleads with you louder than those intrusive thoughts.

_ Please, be good. _

You take a deep breath. Some of the pressure lifts off your limbs and you can move more freely. Without waiting to confer with Frisk, you dart your hand out to the side where you know * **MERCY** waits.

***SPARE.**

It’s Frisk’s turn to try to yell at you for not waiting after you’d decided together, but you silence them with a jerk of your hand. Hypocrite. As weak as the check made him seem, you don’t trust what’s happening, not one bit.

Sans’s mouth relaxes a little at the corners, the sharp lines around his eye sockets and cheekbones fading. He’s still smiling and watching your every move but his gaze starts to slip from unyielding to careful curiosity. Very expressive, for a skull.

“you sure you want to do that, bud? i could give you a really b a d  t i m e.”

Frisk tries to jerk your hand hard enough to pull you closer to ACT but you’re ready for them to try.

***SPARE**

Pitching your voice so you know Sans can’t hear you, you move your head in the direction you know Frisk is, even though in this context that movement is pretty pointless as you can’t see them anyway. “Trust me. Just...trust me, please?”

Frisk doesn’t hesitate.  _ You have a plan _ ?

“...a hunch.”

_ Captain Obnoxious _ , Frisk says, but the words are affectionate. They step back to allow you to lead, never letting go of your hand.

“Sans,” you say, casting your voice across the darkness between you, “I spare you.”

Pinpricks of light pop into the center of each eye socket. He shrugs, taking a single boney hand out of his pocket.

“ok.”

Simple as that single syllable reply, the encompassing black is gone.

Sans stands several feet away in the same posture he held during the encounter. Without the magic turning everything in view to stark black and white, you can see the dark blue of his jacket, black shorts, and pastel pink of his fluffy slippers. The colors make him look a little less intimidating but you can’t shake the memory of the feeling of doom you experienced moments before.

“interesting clothes you’ve got there,” he drawls, motioning with a jerk of his elbow at the two of you. His hands are still buried in the blue jacket. “don’t see that rune much anymore outside of the capital.”

You’re not sure what to say to that except to look down at the Delta rune like you didn’t know what was on the front of your tunics. The way he mentioned the capital set off alarms in your head. What did the symbol Toriel loved so much have in connection with the capital?

_ Someone made the clothes for us,  _ Frisk signs.  _ She wore this kind of stuff all the time. Hey, your name’s Sans, right _ ?

Frisk’s signing stops your gaping down at the front of your tunic, and you’re getting ready to interpret before Sans answers.

“yep, sans the skeleton. didn’t check you two. what’s yours?”

_ Frisk and ________ _ . They spell out your name and use your name sign, and the skeleton doesn’t miss a beat. 

Another monster that understands Frisk without effort? You can’t decide if that is comforting or makes you uneasy. 

He takes one of his hands out of his pocket and salutes you with a smirk that would give the Cheshire cat a run for it’s money. The permanent grin on his face doesn’t seem as sharp as it did in the encounter, both literally and figuratively, since his canines had slipped back behind his bony lips.

“been a long time since anyone came through the ruins. how’s things on the other side?”

“I mean, we were only there for a month or so, but I guess they’re normal?”

San’s eye...lights? Pupils? Eye sockets? Whatever the right word for them was, when San’s gaze snaps to you, they are sharp and focused. The strange malleable quality of his skull allows his eyelids to droop a little in a facsimile of narrowing his eyes at you. Everything in his body language screams laziness except for his eyes.

“good t’hear that.”

Silence passes awkwardly for a minute, maybe two, as Sans continues to block your way forward. Frisk makes the next move.

_ It’s too cold to stand still out here, I already can’t feel my toes. Is there anywhere we can stay up ahead, a hotel or something? A store we can get supplies to keep moving? _

“snowdin. that’s the only major town in this part of the underground.” Sans looks at the two of you for a beat before shrugging and turning away from the two of you. “if you two want to make it before it gets real cold, you better follow me.”

Everything about this feels too simple, too easy. The memory of your regrets and fears crawling up your back is too hard to forget so fast, but you follow Frisk’s lead. They let go of your hand so the two of you can stuff them into your pockets for a little more warmth. Silk heats up quickly from the little bit of body heat you can provide, and moving warms up your toes again, but you realize these boots aren’t meant for snow. There is already an uncomfortable dampness touching the soles of your feet.

Getting closer to the monster you can tell he’s almost the same height as you, maybe a half inch shorter. Lately Frisk was looking taller to you and it made you grumble. Yeah, you were fraternal twins, so some things were bound to be different, but you actually really enjoyed being mistaken as identical most of the time. You’d stopped growing a while ago but they were proving they’d outpace you very soon. Standing so close to Sans also lets you catch how bright white his body is, or what you can see of it. And, instead of a smooth dome of a skull, it’s clear there is a distinct texture over the bony material.

It’s easy to keep pace with Sans walking down the snowy path. After several minutes following closely behind him, sparse conversation flowing between your group, you pass a simple wooden outpost that reminds you of something you saw as a kid. Maybe one of the neighbor’s lemonade stands? But instead of a pitcher of a sweet, summer treat, you can see a bottle of ketchup and mustard in the snow nearby. 

You glance behind you to see if you can make out the Ruins’ door from here, and you can only just make out the line of the doors from here. A soft haze filters over the solid rock wall encasing that part of the Underground, the same sort of haze you’d expect when the sun shines on the water or onto snow on the Surface.

“my sentry station,” Sans explains as you walk by. “my bro and i keep watch for...we keep watch for trouble out here. Like a first line of defense for snowdin and the rest of the underground.”

_ Where’s your bro? _ Frisk uses the sign for friend as they ask Sans the question, and the monster is quick to correct.

His lips and mouth still move as he speaks, but to clarify he takes his skeletal hands out of his pockets and signs a few things. “my brother, papyrus. come to think of it he’s due to drop by and check on me soon. it would be best if he did not see the two of ya.”

“Why?” you ask.

“because the trouble we watch out for are people like you. humans, specifically.”

“How did you-”

“i’m not a blind numb _ skull _ , kid.” Sans shrugs and smiles a little wider, but instead of looking menacing, the image is downright sassy. “there might not be a noodly-looking brain inside this head of mine like you got between your ears, but i know the difference between a monster and a human when i see one. and you said you were only in the ruins for a month before coming out here. history books say the only things that come out of there anymore are humans that fell down, so i put two and two together.”

Frisk snaps their fingers.  _ That’s why you encountered us right away! _

“yes. now, seriously, dudes, either do exactly as i say when he shows up or make for the trees. got it?”

“Why are you helping us?” you ask. 

You try not to sound accusatory, but there’s more than meets the eye, and you’re ready to get to the bottom of it. If anything, you’re the most tenacious person you know, even including Frisk. Sans doesn’t bristle at your question and his smile doesn’t fade, but it feels forced. 

Yep. This dude is definitely hiding something.

“too much at stake, kid. and i made a promise.”

“I don’t know if we should trust you,” you say, starting to shiver again after standing still for so long. Frisk wraps one of their arms around you for a second to share body heat. They’re being so patient with you instead of getting annoyed and you love them for it.

“i don’t know if i can trust you either, but they say the darkest hour comes  _ trust _ before the dawn. waddaya say? buds?” He holds out his hand to shake at the end.

Frisk groans at the pun, but one look shows they’re smiling anyway, the seriousness of the situation the only thing keeping them from starting up another pun battle like they’d tried on the walk from the Ruins. Without hesitation they reach over and shake the skeleton’s hand with the one not wrapped around your shoulders.

“Fine,” you say, following your twin’s lead. “Let’s give this a shot, then. How long until we get someplace with food and heat? I can’t really feel my toes anymore.”

Sans jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “not too far, kiddos. i know a shortcut.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/) (I do take requests, just saying)
> 
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon-typical violence
> 
> HERE'S YOUR BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII ┌( ಠ‿ಠ)┘It only took over 23k words for the brat to show up but here he is and he's here to stay


	10. Snowdin Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).
> 
> Love and smooches byeeeee

“Holy shit how did you do that?”

The skeleton chuckles at your exclamation, waving his fingers in front of you with a series of clicking noises. “magic, kid.”

“Fucking  _ duh _ . Wow. Toriel used fire but...wow.”

You don’t notice the hard stare Sans gives you behind your back because you’re still focused on the space that used to be an empty path in a forest surrounded by trees. Now it is occupied by the back wall of a brick building. Sans is relaxed again by the time you turn to him, his hands back in his pockets.

Smells of fire and food are strong enough to make your head spin. Memories of going to Christmas villages with your parents when you were very small fill your mind, and damn it if a few tears don’t prick at your eyes at how suddenly those hit you.

There are a few trees around the three of you and the wall so your sudden appearance out of thin air isn’t noticed by anyone else right away. 

At least you thought so, at first.

“BROTHER, IS THAT YOU?” The voice is loud, carrying easily through the branches where you can just make out the shape of another monster trying to peer through. 

Sans freezes next to you. Frisk’s hand, still in yours, squeezes a little tighter with surprise.

“yep, just me, pap.”

“IT DOES NOT APPEAR TO BE ‘JUST YOU’.” Papyrus says. You can tell he’s much taller than you or Sans, peering through high branches covered in snow and ice. “BUT, IF YOU SAY SO. I WILL PRETEND I DID NOT SEE TWO PEOPLE IN PURPLE STANDING BEHIND YOU AND THAT YOU WERE NOT AWAY FROM YOUR STATION WHEN YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING.”

Sans is still tense enough you can feel a static pressure against your skin, the same feeling you had before he pulled you into an encounter. You know monsters are made of magic after studying at Toriel’s but you never got this feeling around her. There is a heavy pull of power all around him. Who is this skeleton?

“alright, he’s probably headed back to our house. you guys hungry?” The pressure in the air reduces to almost unnoticeable levels as soon as Papyrus is out of sight.

_ Oh my god, yes _ , Frisk signs next to you. You let go of their hand so they can speak freely.  _ What smells so good? _

“that’d be grillby’s. c’mon.”

You two follow Sans around the corner of the squat brick building, dodging the water dripping from the roof from tiny icicles. You tug your hood up over your head to hopefully trap some more of your body heat. Rounding the corner of the building out to the street, you almost freeze at the sight.

Monsters. Everywhere! Dozens of them in your immediate vision walking by, meeting around a Christmas tree in the center of the square, or generally going about their days. You had no idea what time it was when you left the Ruins or what time it is now, but it seems to be early morning. There are several smaller monsters, children from what you can tell by their clothes, running towards a building marked SCHOOL in big block letters out front. A tall bunny monster rings a bell like you’d seen in movies growing up from olden days, calling the local students in for their classes. Everything reminds you of the Charlie Brown Christmas special you used to watch every year in December.

Your feet keep moving automatically as you follow Sans and Frisk, and you try not to stare too much. There’s so much to take in with this little snow-globe like town. It had been easy to believe you’d potentially lost your mind in the Ruins, some days. The few monsters there, like the rocks and Froggits, were things you could believe you had made up in a fever dream. Toriel was the only exception back there. The idea this was some sort of trick is quickly being banished from your mind. 

No way could you have thought up half the creatures and people you see. Everything looks, smells, feels, and sounds way too real to not be. A huge shift happens in your head all at once, like a tectonic plate slipping and causing an earthquake. If you were determined to somehow break the Barrier and free these people before, it’s nothing to how you feel now. There’s a thread of something more beneath it, something powerful and familiar, the same thing you’d used to survive this well this long. 

You would persevere until the end no matter what, no matter what it took. A pressure is building inside of you that gives you a sense of undeniable urgency. The source isn’t clear but you can’t ever remember feeling this sure about anything.

The lights from Grillby’s are warm and bright, like peering into Toriel’s fireplace, the difference in light snapping you out of your thoughts. Sans opens the door for you and Frisk and the blast of warm air almost knocks you down. You stand in the doorway for a moment, kicking snow off your boots on the rug by the door. There’s a coat rack but Sans doesn’t take off his hoodie, just shuffles on by in his slipper towards the bar, and you can’t remove your tunic anyway since you and Frisk only have thin undershirts on beneath them.

You and Frisk are seventeen, so you haven’t sat at the bar in a restaurant before. Frisk doesn’t hesitate, just pushes back their white hood so their hair poofs out with static electricity, following Sans to a seat next to him at the end of the bar. You aren’t far behind, pushing back your hood as well now that you’re inside. The crackle of static makes you wince as it stings your cold-sensitive ears and cheeks, and you fruitlessly try to tame the flyaways from your ponytail.

Inside, the space is packed tight with chairs and booths, almost all of them full of a variety of monsters. One booth is taken up by a monster made almost entirely of a mouth with enormous teeth. You can see a little straw off to the side between the teeth sucking up its drink. More bunnies, several dogs, a few other animal-like monsters, there are too many for you to count right away. Squeezing between a chair and a booth, you follow Frisk’s lead and take a seat to their left so Frisk is between you and Sans.

Behind the bar stands a monster made completely of fire. With a pair of glasses and a tux, they cut a striking image, and the closer they walk towards your group the warmer it gets. You have to stop yourself from lifting up your shaking fingers towards them to soak up the heat and start to feel like you can move again.

“sup, grillby? water for them, usual for me.”

The fire monster, Grillby, nods and makes a crackling sound you can’t interpret. Laughter? Words? He fills two glasses of water from a faucet behind him and reaches below the bar to bring up a bottle of ketchup.

_ Ketchup? _ Frisk signs.  _ Is that why there was a bunch of ketchup and mustard at your station in the forest? _

Sans winks at Frisk before uncapping the bottle, lifting it to his teeth. A slight gap appears between the teeth in his permanent smile and the ketchup disappears into a mouth as black as his eye sockets. You’re staring, you can’t help it. The red ketchup fizzles and sparks out of existence almost as soon as it hits the monster’s mouth.

“Woah,” you say, so distracted that you almost put your hair in your glass of water. Sitting between you, Frisk rolls their eyes and picks up the glass of water to drain it.

Sans makes a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

After they put the empty glass back on the bartop, Frisk clenches their hands a few times, hissing through their teeth. The skin on their knuckles is red and chapped by the cold outside. You grab the hand closest to you and start to rub it furiously between yours, even though you still feel cold to the bone. The action helps both of you warm up faster.

“huh. cold really bothers humans, doesn’t it?”

You look at Sans. “It doesn’t get to you this much? You work out in that forest, right?”

“nah, the cold goes  _ right through me _ ,” Sans says, chuckling at his own joke. “i know the bunnies have fur to keep themselves warm, i figured human’s hair would do something like that.”

“No. We would need to grow our hair, like, five feet longer to even think about it keeping us warm.”

Frisk pulls their hand out of your grip, signing a quick thank you before saying,  _ And then it would take too long to wash. And that would be super heavy.  _

Grillby comes back before the odd hair topic continues. He makes more crackling sounds towards Sans so you figure that’s his main method of communication. Does he know sign language, too? Every monster you’ve met so far knows it uncannily well. Not that you mind, you know Frisk is probably thrilled that they can communicate so easily, but you can’t help but feel a bit put out. Selfish, probably, but you were used to being the one to translate for Frisk.

Yeah. That’s really selfish of you and you kind of hate yourself for a bit for even thinking it.

After a few signs, you can see when Frisk realizes Grillby is trying to communicate back to them but they have a hard time catching what his hands are saying since the fire of his fingers blends together. They turn to Sans since he acts as if he can understand what the barkeep is trying to say.

“he understands you, frisk, but i’ll translate for ‘im. he’s just asking what we want to eat. Three of the usual. thanks, grillby.”

The usual turns out to be a burger and fries placed in front of each of you in record time. It feels like Grillby was only in the back for a minute or two before he was back and balancing the food. Not what you’d expected for what amounted for breakfast time, but you’re hungry enough to not care.

With one bite you’re confused, and with two you’re curious. You didn’t expect meat, of course, but you weren’t sure what to expect, either. It’s good. But you wish you knew what it was. It looked like a burger but it didn’t taste like any burger you’d ever eaten before. The fries at least you can tell started out as some relative of a potato. Textures are almost there for all the food, but it’s like someone heard a description of a burger and saw a picture but had never had one before and tried to emulate it. Regardless, it’s warm and filling so you don’t have any complaints.

_ Spprrrrlltttt _ !

Two seats down from you, Sans is dumping the ketchup from his bottle over every inch of his plate.

Frisk wrinkles their nose at the mess next to them.  _ Gross, dude. _

“don’t knock it, kid. my taste is refined.”

_ No, just gross. _

Sans shrugs and continues to pour until no more ketchup will fall out of the bottle for him, digging into the food without regret.

Out of habit you check yourself as you eat, eyes mostly closed, trying to tell what this monster food might do to affect you and your Soul. There’s nothing new happening but you notice for the first time that there is something significantly different.

Before, in the encounter, you and Frisk were too focused on Sans to notice, but the tunic outfits you wore are raising your max HP as well as allowing you freer movement. Sans was able to circumvent that earlier, too, wasn’t he? Right, you felt rooted to the ground. Heavier. 

Magic makes your head hurt.

_ Thanks, Grillby, the food is great _ , Frisk signs next to you when the proprietor returns to refill your waters and to replace Sans’s ketchup bottle.

“he says thanks,” Sans translates. 

“So that was your brother, Papyrus?” you ask after your plates are all about half empty. “The one that wants to capture us?”

“yep. thought he’d still be out in the forest but,” Sans shrugs again, an action that is exaggeratedly casual, “s’pose he was probably trying to find me.”

Another few minute pass with the three of you eating, but Frisk starts to conspicuously look over their shoulder every so often. Sans watches this out of the corner of his eye socket for a bit before tapping the bar top in front of Frisk to get their attention without touching them.

“hey, buddy, what’s wrong? you’re looking over your shoulder like there’s some-monster you’re worried about.”

_ Why don’t any of these people notice that we aren’t monsters _ ?

Frisks hands move in muted movements in front of their body in case anyone is watching them and understands the signs. It’s a question that’s been bothering you since you entered Snowdin, so you perk up to hear Sans’s answer. He scratches the back of his skull with an odd scraping sound, something that reminds you of chalk on a chalkboard, as if there’s nothing actually inside his skull. There’s a lot of noise in the restaurant with several dog-like monsters playing cards, so you can’t be sure, but it sounds like his skull could be hollow.

“heh. you two can’t tell? you’re practically radiating magic, just like the rest of us do down here.”

Frisk glances over at you with one eyebrow raised, then turns back to Sans.  _ Magic, us? _

“there’s only a few monsters down here that could tell with a glance that you’re not one of us, kid. one of ‘em’s me, the other two i know for sure are the captain of the royal guard and the king. my brother...i think he could tell, too, if he got a good look atcha.”

“Then does that mean we can get to the capital by ourselves?.”

Sans starts to choke on the ketchup-soaked fry he’d been eating. He pounds on his chest twice to dislodge it, turning to look over at you with his hands gripping the bartop and the little lights in his eye sockets as small as you’d ever seen them before disappearing.

“ _ why the hell do you want to go there _ ? you got a death wish, buddy?”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish a couple times, and you copy Frisk’s earlier actions and look over your shoulder to see if anyone was watching you three. Everyone seems engrossed in their food or their company. You meet San’s gaze as best you can. The skeleton is about the same height as you but with his mouth making a forced smile and his eye sockets almost completely dark he’s incredibly intimidating. 

Finding your voice, you whisper, “Death wish? What are you talking about?”

He blinks, actually blinks with boney lids, twice before he answers. You realize this whole time you hadn’t seen him do that yet and you wonder if he was doing it for some kind of affect.

“this isn’t the place for this conversation. c’mon.”

Faster than you’d seen him move yet, he’s off his bar stool and at the door of the restaurant, waiting for you with that tight smile and hands in his pockets. No one else reacts to the way he was suddenly there and then over there in a flash. Frisk pulls out a couple of the gold coins you’d saved from the Ruins to put on the counter top before following Sans. You think it’s really rude of Sans to not pay for his food, so you take out one more piece just in case it helps pay his share, too, but the fire monster Grillby isn’t around to ask.

Unlike on the Surface where Frisk keeps a constant stream of conversation with you non verbally, they’re silent, hands in their pockets, too. Typically people didn’t know sign language well enough to catch anything but you suppose down here the monsters have proven more than proficient at it, as well as English, which is a question you think should wait until after whatever Sans has to tell you. The skeleton is teetering between casual indifference and dead seriousness without warning, setting your teeth on edge, but so far he’s not done anything outright to hurt you or Frisk so you follow him. What else can you do?

“stick close,” Sans says as he starts to walk away from Grillby’s.

You want to berate him for not paying his tab but his tone gives no quarter.

The walk from Grillby’s through town is quiet, and you barely get a second glance from any curious monsters. Several wave to Sans or throw a joke his way. He plays along, an effortless comic, throwing puns back as if he were passing a Frisbee to the other people instead of words. One monster that looked like a yellow lizard without arms tried to draw him into a longer conversation as you passed a building labeled ‘Librarby’ but he side steps away with a wave, giving a lame excuse if you’d ever heard one.

“i’d love to stick around and chat, cygnus, but i’m  _ bone _ -tired. catch you on the undernet later, buddy.”

Cygnus takes it without question. “You betcha, Sans! I should probably go, too, anyway.”

He turns to run off, almost face-planting in the snow. You make a move to reach out and catch him but the trip turns into a tumble and, while he’s now covered in powdery snow, the monster laughs and skids off on the patch of ice nearby. 

Sans slows his pace a little to walk in step with you for a moment. “it’s nice you want to  _ reach out _ to other monsters, bud, but it’s a better idea not to touch anyone. got it? that’ll give up the game faster’n anything will.”

“Fine,” you mutter, cowed by his once again intense expression. 

Geez. He’s making you feel like a stupid little kid, and you want to argue that you are neither stupid nor a kid, but a group of bunny monsters barrels by your trio with single-mindedness towards the Libarby. You all jump to get out of the way, Frisk stumbling back to land against the wall of the building, pressing against it as far as they could to avoid touching any of the monsters per Sans’s warning. Unfortunately, your foot finds a patch of ice under the snow and you start to fall backwards towards the building at the wrong angle, your head inches from slamming against the brick.

Boney hands grab your arm and pull you back upright with a jerk. As soon as they were on your arm, they’re gone, but it’s like Sans’s fingers had burned a hole through your tunic. That feeling hadn’t happened when you shook hands in the forest, bare skin on bare bones, so the shock of the contact startles you. Without meaning to you jerk away, almost slipping on the ice again. Sans isn’t looking at you, glancing around you to check for onlookers again, so you can’t tell if he felt the same thing or not.

Frisk notices the way you’re staring at the skeleton, to your arm, and back again, signing,  _ What’s wrong, are you hurt _ ?

You shake your head. “Not hurt. Let’s get out of here, please.”

A long stretch of open road widens before you, an open space between the shops and what looks like a residential area of Snowdin. Above your head a vast darkness stretches, so high you can’t make out the ceiling clearly. The sky, if it could be called that at all, is a color so dark you can’t decide if it’s blue or purple or maybe black. You wonder where the light is coming from that bounces off the snow. It doesn’t shine like sunlight but if you didn’t know better, the light is coming directly from the softly falling snow. There is still that distinct lack of shadows, just like in the Ruins, to tell you where the source is.

Sans blends into this part of town easily, and you have to stick close to be able to follow him at all, just like he had warned back at Grillby’s. Even this short bit of walking makes you realize how hungry you still are. Toriel was right that you’d need three times as much food to feel any semblance of full. 

One of the houses facing the main road comes into view, two mailboxes posted outside in the front. The taller of the two is pristine, it even shines slightly in the low light, whereas the other one was overflowing with letters, full to bursting. Sans slows down in front of the house enough for you to read his name on the shorter mailbox, but he doesn’t stop, he keeps walking towards a bridge in the distance. The other side is shrouded in thick fog and for the first time since teleporting with him, you have to wonder if you made the right choice here.

You find Frisk’s hand to hold since they aren’t saying anything anyway, and you could use the shared warmth and comfort of their presence. There’s movement in the fog up ahead, and the hairs on your arms are standing straight up, especially in the spot where Sans balanced you earlier.

“c’mon, just through here,” sans mutters as you reach the bridge. 

He won’t turn to look back at you. Your grip in Frisk’s hand gets tighter. There’s a little tremble in your body from cold and nerves, but Frisk is a rock beside you. Their eyes are narrowed, unable to see very far ahead of you, but once the thick fog shrouds your vision entirely you reach your other hand over to grab Frisk’s sleeve, too. Your fear-addled brain reminds you their hearing and sight are impaired and they’re likely even more affected by it than you.

“Sans?” You’ve lost sight of him, the faded blue of his hoodie is swallowed up by the fog and the rhythmic slaps of his slippers on the snow is gone. “Sans! Where are you?”

_ Go. Go forward _ , Frisk signs with their free hand. They’re trembling now, too. You can only make out their signs because they’re holding their hand so close to their body, and you can’t even see your own feet at this point. It’s very disorienting.

Damn that monster! You should have followed your gut and declined his offer of information before reaching this point and now what do you do? Did this bridge even have rails all the way across? You follow Frisk’s gesture and start to shuffle slowly through the fog, each step deliberate and careful. The silence presses on your eardrums almost painfully.

The first color you see after so much white is a flash of red. A scarf, fluttering in a wind you can’t feel. 

When the person attached to that flash of red speaks, you move to cover your ears at once.

“HUMANS. YOU HAVE THWARTED BOTH MY BROTHER’S AND MY CLEVER PUZZLES AND JAPES, REACHING THIS BRIDGE AT THE EXACT TIME I DECIDED TO MEET YOU. CLEARLY YOU TWO ARE AN EVEN MATCH FOR EVEN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS. BUT NO MATTER. I SHALL CAPTURE YOU BOTH, BY MYSELF, AND BRING YOU TO KING ASGORE AS MY ROYAL GUARD DUTIES REQUIRE ME”

Frisk’s fingernails start to dig into your hands. You know with a voice that carries that well even they can make them out easily, with or without their hearing aids. Slowly, breath by breath, the fog cleared to reveal a much taller skeleton monster, dressed head to toe in white, black, and red, a smile so wide it split the skull almost in two. He spoke two words of warning before drawing your Souls out into an encounter.

“PREPARE YOURSELVES.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/) (I do take requests, just saying)
> 
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon-typical violence
> 
> Seriously, the only reason this story exists is through the support I'm receiving from others. It makes something fun, rewarding! Please let me know what you liked, what you're not liking -anything, honestly- down in the comments below!


	11. Bonetrousle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).
> 
>  
> 
> [a bit of background music for you on this chapter specifically](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDdR4c9vcEw)

***Papyrus blocks the way.**

So much encompassing darkness after the disorienting feeling of the fog jostles you, catches you off guard, but you keep hold of Frisk’s hand. You’re aware of the cold against your skin even if you can’t see your body anymore, the light of yours and Frisk’s Souls illuminating your half of the encounter. Now, devoured by the strange magic of the encounter, you are very aware of the protecting and speed affects your tunics carry to this liminal space.

“HUMANS! ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU ABOUT SOME COMPLEX FEELINGS. SOMEHOW I FEEL LIKE I KNOW YOU FROM SOMEWHERE. DID I MEET YOU ONLINE? I HAVE MANY SOCIAL MEDIA CONNECTIONS SO IT MUST BE TRUE!” The rambunctious monster scratches at his jawbone with a gloved hand while his eye sockets narrow in concentration before moving into another sweeping, grandiose pose. “NO MATTER! YOU CANNOT BE MY FRIENDS FOR YOU ARE HUMANS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WOULD LIKE TO CAPTURE YOU AND TAKE YOU TO THE KING PLEASE. SO IT WOULD BE BEST IF YOU DO NOT RESIST MY CLEVER METHODS OF CAPTURING YOU!”

Papyrus’s voice feels very different but you can’t put your finger on why at first, until the text of his voice appears in the air next to him. It floats for a few seconds, long enough that you can read it, and though you’re not sure if Frisk can read something at that distance there is no doubt in your mind they were able to hear Papyrus. Their vision and hearing disabilities weren’t hindering them down here nearly as much as they had up on the Surface. The tone of his voice could carry over the sound of a crowded stadium. You’re amazed it doesn’t hurt your ears in its intensity. And just like his name, you could make out the shape and feel of his words, which looked just like the font you remember from computer programs topside.

A lively sound starts up at the edge of your hearing, like a television or radio playing in the next room loud enough to hear but not up high enough to make out individual words or notes. At first you suspected it to be the same sounds you’d hear while encountering Froggits or even Napstablook in the Ruins, but it’s completely unique. You shake your head to ignore the distraction, and refocus on Papyrus.

He’s so tall. Scratch that, it’s an understatement, he is _very_ tall. San’s brother is probably as tall as Toriel, though not anywhere near as broad or commanding. Where his brother wore a baggy hoodie, slippers, and shorts getup, Papyrus sports what appears to be a suit of armor. Everything about him is a flat white color like every other monster you’ve encountered so far, but before entering the encounter you’d noticed the candy-apple red of his scarf and the polished black and white pieces of armor over the rest of his body. Combined with his height, voice, and choice of clothing, he is easily one of the most intimidating monsters you’ve met yet.

“What should we do?” you whisper to Frisk.

Pausing to think, you can feel Frisk shuffle next to you in the same way you’re aware you’re still breathing and your heart is beating. When your Soul is out like this, what your body is doing doesn’t seem nearly as important.

 _You’ve got Fight and Act on your side right?_ they ask you, the motions for their signs appearing in your head as if you were seeing them in front of you.

Most of the encounters you were in, your positions were reversed with Frisk on your left instead of your right, but this is manageable. “Yeah, you want me to use one?”

 _Check him, please_.

***CHECK**

***Papyrus. 20 ATK. 20 DEF. Likes to say “NYEH HEH HEH”.**

“PREPARE, HUMANS, FOR AN EPIC DISPLAY OF ROYAL GUARD TRAINING!” Papyrus says from his side of the encounter.

With a wave of his hand, bones start moving towards you across the black, halfway sunk into the ground you cannot see, moving in patterns that are easy to dodge at first. You and Frisk move seamlessly to dodge each one, jumping and bending as you need to. Only one of the dozens of stark white bones grazes against the bright red of Frisk’s Soul, and you hear and feel them flinch against the pain. Panic starts to rise in your throat at the sight of damage to their HP. Your HP is untouched but as a team, you feel part of the blow, too, like a shockwave off their Soul.

Once it’s clear it’s your turn again, you whisper to Frisk. “Okay, now what? He’s a lot stronger than any other monsters we’ve encountered before, and...he seems pretty set on capturing us. One of those attacks hit you! We don’t have to fight him, do we? I don’t want to fight anyone!”

Your voice rises in pitch as you keep panicking. For good reason! You’re freezing, a monster brought you into an encounter, and you were threatened by another monster that if you hurt this guy you’d be in for a bad time. Papyrus may be intimidating but Sans is downright scary when he wants to be! You’ve barely accepted this is real and happening, and now there’s a true threat across from you with a disarmingly charming smile and cheery voice.

 _Hey, hey stop it._ Frisk’s fingers rub on the back of your hand in soothing motions. _But he gave us the first move, too. Like Sans did, and all the other monsters in the Ruins. We shouldn’t have to fight, I still have Spare over here. Actually, can we switch sides, does that count as a turn?_

“I feel like we can’t unless we ACT, so let me see…”

The choices available to you under ACT you see *Insult, *Check, and…*Flirt?

“Switching isn’t an option, but flirting is? What the hell?”

 _Do it!_ Frisk says, bumping your hand with theirs.

***FLIRT**

_Papyrus, I really like your armor. It looks great on you!_

“WH-WHAT? FLIRTING? THIS ISN’T IN THE ROYAL GUARD HANDBOOK UNDYNE GAVE ME, AND I’VE READ IT TWENTY TIMES!” Papyrus’s skull shows a few beads of sweat, which intrigues and confuses you to no end. “BUT I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW I’M A SKELETON WITH HIGH STANDARDS!”

Another short wave of bone attacks passes around you, the jumps and dodges different this time but you don’t take damage.

 _Keep going_ , Frisk says with another nudge.

You do. You follow through with the flirting ACT at Frisk’s guidance, allowing them to take the wheel for this encounter even though you hold control over the more powerful half of the heads up display.

_You’re incredibly strong, Papyrus. I can see why you’re a Royal Guard!_

You swear you see a little blush color the bone beneath Papyrus’s eye sockets, where his cheeks would be if his mouth didn’t take up half of his skull. “A GENUINE COMPLIMENT! THANK YOU - I MEAN, NO! I WILL NOT BE SWAYED! HAVE AT THEE, HUMANS!”

After three or so flirt commands, followed each time by dodging bone attacks, you both wince as you run into a light blue bone. You’re sure with Frisk’s limited eyesight they might have missed the cyan color compared to the white bones from every other attack.

“Cyan for patience,” you recall from one of the books you studied with Toriel. “Frisk if we see more blue bones I’m going to keep us still, okay? That might work.”

_Okay. Do you have a piece of monster candy on you? Our ITEM category shows three but I know my pockets only have gold and one of the notebooks from Toriel’s house._

“You took one of those? Nevermind, show me after this. Here’s the candy.” Their HP is close to half and you’re kicking yourself for not noticing sooner, that they had to ask for an item at all. Your little purple heart only shows a couple HP knocked off, and you resolve to move them out of the way if you get the chance.

Your guess was correct the next time you saw a cyan blue bone, and it passed through you both without incident.

“HUMANS! LET’S SEE IF YOU CAN HANDLE MY FABLED BLUE ATTACK!”

After so many indications from Papyrus’s side noting his application of various items like bone cologne and attraction slime, you’re honed in on what he has to say.

“Blue...Frisk do you know what - oh!”

The heaviness you remember from the encounter with Sans fills your Soul. Your physical body is affected as well, and when you try to lift one of your feet, it feels much harder, like the gravity of the world around you was cranked up to eleven. The attacks are much different now, more complex, and you and Frisk have to work together through shouts and jerks to keep from losing too much HP. Papyrus looks gleeful at the way the two of you work together to dodge and respond to the new attack. Does he...actually want to hurt and capture you?

You have a hunch like you did with Sans when he immediately encountered you outside of the Ruins. “Frisk, can you try to SPARE him on this turn, please?”

_Sure._

***SPARE**.

“HUMANS. GIVE UP OR FACE MY SPECIAL ATTACK.” Another bead of sweat shows on Papyrus’s brow, but his movements are still exaggerated, the bone attacks more complicated the more you try to SPARE him.  “YEAH!! NOT TOO LONG AND I’LL USE MY SPECIAL ATTACK! THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE! KING ASGORE AND UNDYNE WILL BE SO PROUD OF ME FOR CAPTURING NOT ONE BUT TWO HUMANS!”

***SPARE**

“...DON’T YOU WANT TO SEE MY SPECIAL ATTACK?” Papyrus is sweating more now, and the creases on his brow that act like eyebrows move to make the empty eye sockets look concerned. It’s harder to tell with him than his brother, Sans, since he doesn’t have the little floating lights in the sockets, but he seems to look away from you. The lack of eye lights was horrifying on Sans but in Papyrus’s skull they look far less intimidating, almost like a real-life Disney character with his over-large eyes.

You persist, Frisk following the same method you’d used together since the first Froggit battles in the Ruins, even when they helped you with Napstablook. Keep sparing! Even if Papyrus wants to capture you, and you have no reason to trust him or his brother at this point, you feel a sick pressure in your Soul when you even get close to the FIGHT button. Never. You never want to touch that one.

***SPARE**

“BEHOLD! MY SPECIAL ATTACK!”

A series of excited barks fills the air as Papyrus withdraws the largest bone attack yet. Like a streak of white lightning, a small dog rushes into the attack and grabs ahold of the bone before it reaches you, dragging it out of the encounter. You watch it until it disappears because the dog could barely fit it’s mouth around the length of bone, how was it carrying something almost three times its size?

“WHAT THE HECK! DOG! STOP IT, THAT’S MY SPECIAL ATTACK! UGH, NO MATTER, I’LL JUST USE ANOTHER OF MY REALLY COOL NORMAL ATTACKS!”

“Keep sparing him, Frisk!”

The heaviness on your Soul feels normal by now, and the two of you have dodged almost all of the bones. You only have two more pieces of monster candy left in your pocket and no idea how much longer this will last, so you want to keep those in case of emergency. It’s hard to tell while in an encounter, but the movement is keeping your physical body warm enough to start sweating, which is a relief to your cold fingers and toes.

By now there are several beads of sweat on Papyrus’s forehead, though you don’t think it’s from exertion like the sweat on your body after jumping and sliding around bone attacks. He looks nervous and concerned, and you can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. It seems he wants so badly to impress someone, the King for one and someone named Undyne for another, but is conflicted about attacking you. Even the last few bone attacks, or ‘normal attacks’, haven’t been as difficult, and each time you or Frisk were hit, you could swear you noticed him wince in sympathy.

_Papyrus, we spare you._

“V-VERY WELL! IT’S CLEAR THAT EVEN TOGETHER, YOU CANNOT BEST ME! I CAN SEE YOU SHAKING IN YOUR BOOTS! THEREFORE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ELECT TO SHOW YOU MERCY AND SPARE YOU!”

The veil of the encounter falls, but the concerned expression on the skeleton’s face remains. You can see the trails of your steps through the snow, breaking the pristine white surface near the riverbank. While blind to the world around you, you’d miraculously not fallen off the bridge into the icy water of the river at the bottom of the ravine. The idea makes your hands shake and your stomach churn. Even as you look around you to get your bearings in between the trees and snow piles, you watch the steadily falling snow fill your tracks.

Frisk lets go of your hand and starts walking towards Papyrus slowly, holding their hands out at their sides and slightly squinting their eyes as if focusing on where the skeleton is.

“Frisk…” you say with a hiss of warning.

 _It’s okay_ , they sign over their shoulder.

Papyrus speaks in the quietest voice you’ve heard from him yet, but it’s still a shout. “HUMAN? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

 _I want to see you, Papyrus._ Frisk signs in the direction they can hear his voice. _Can you come closer please_?

As if to ask for help and guidance, Papyrus looks up at you. So soon after the encounter, you’re still wary but you remember the looks of uncertainty on his face as he lessened the strength of his attacks, how he lost some of his will to capture you the longer you tried to SPARE him.

“Frisk doesn’t see very well,” you say, taking slow steps forward yourself. “You have to get pretty close for them to be able to see you clearly.”

You get the distinct feeling of being watched, and catch sight of Sans behind the branches of a pine tree when you move, but he’s gone before you can make eye contact.

Papyrus lights up immediately. “LIKE GERSON, THEN! HUMAN, YOU MUST BE MUCH OLDER THAN I THOUGHT IF YOUR EYES CANNOT SEE ME FROM FAR AWAY. I WILL STEP CLOSER TO YOU.”

Watching Papyrus move closer to Frisk, you spot Sans again by the light blue glow from his eye as he watches the three of you interact. You stare right back at him until he starts to back down, the light in his eye socket returning to a white dot. He shrugs, and comes out from between the trees, his slippers sinking into the soft snow along the path. Frisk and Papyrus act completely enamored with one another’s company, Papyrus keeping up with Frisk’s brisk signing with cheerful shouting of his own. You clearly hear him boasting how he could have captured both of you but he’s feeling forgiving today, though you can’t make out everything Frisk is saying. Their body blocks your view. You wish you had the same ability to understand them without seeing them as you did in the encounters.

Sans pauses a few feet away from you, watching his brother and your twin interact with intense focus.

“What the hell, Sans?” you say, folding your arms. “Why did you just let us run into Papyrus like that? I thought you wanted us to stay away from him.”

The permanent grin on Sans’s face looks a bit strained at the corners, but he shrugs at you. “my bro really wanted to try and capture you guys, ‘n i didn’t want to _spare_ him any of the drama.”

“He could have really hurt us.”

“nah. my bro would have stopped before really doing any damage.”

Sans makes a motion like he wants to light a cigarette, looking in his pockets for a pack of smokes to go along with the lighter that had appeared out of thin air into one of his palms. You recognize the action after watching several foster parents who smoked. He gives up and puts his hands back in the pockets of his blue hoodie.

Your eyebrows lift as you put two and two together, voice rising in indignation. “You were testing us!”

Winking with his left eye closed, Sans’s grin twists a little as he looks over his shoulder at you, little creases that look a bit like dimples showing between his eye sockets and lips. “thought ya looked a little _testy_ with me. don’t worry, you passed. flying colors.”

“It was still a dick move to leave us alone in that fog. I think we’ll head on through to the capital ourselves, thanks.”

You start to march through the snow towards Papyrus and Frisk who, during your conversation with Sans, had moved on to trying to catch the little white dog still dragging around a bone much too large for it to feasibly carry. There’s a tug on the hood of your tunic that halts you in your tracks with a yelp.

“bad idea, buddy. two humans wandering through the underground by their lonesomes will attract a lot of attention, delta runes or not. even the queen’s sigil won’t keep you safe forever. you’d probably get noticed less if you were accompanied by, say, a royal guard.”

You rub at the spot on your neck where the drawstring part of your hood bumped into your throat painfully from Sans’s yank. “You’re really confusing, Sans. Do you actually want to help us or not?”

Sans is watching the three frolicking through the snow with something like fondness in his gaze. “i do. c’mon. the two of you are prob’ly cold again by now. let’s head back to our place to warm up.”

* * *

It takes a little convincing to get Papyrus and Frisk to stop chasing the Annoying Dog, as Sans called it, and head back towards the skeleton brothers’ house. The walk takes a lot less time than you thought, even walking through the fog together hand-in-hand. Papyrus is apparently able to see through the obscuring white cloud to keep an even footing.

“THIS FOG ROLLS THROUGH EVERY DAY AT THE SAME TIME.” he cheerfully explained, voice muffled slightly since he’s at the front and you have Frisk between you. “SANS TOLD ME ITS THE SAME TIME THEY RELEASE PRESSURE FROM THE CORE IN HOTLAND!”

“you got it, bro,” Sans says behind you.

You’d offered your hand to him as Papyrus and Frisk started a human-monster train, but he’d apparently missed or ignored your offer, walking next to you for a few paces before he fell into step behind you. Whatever. You figure if he wanted to he could just teleport home, he doesn’t have to worry about getting lost here.

Walking through the snow to the brother’s house, you notice the sort of sky overhead looks darker, a deeper color above your heads than the shadows you’d noticed after entering Snowdin with Sans. You walk with your head up, searching for the texture of the ceiling you’re positive is up there, some proof that you’re still underground and this is just a huge cave.

“ _snow_ use, buddy,” Sans says as he falls into step next to you. “even monsters that can fly or see better than others can’t get to the top. the barrier stops you.”

“The Barrier is in here, too? I thought it was just in the Capital?”

“buddy, if that were the case the monsters with wings or who can stick to walls woulda found a way out of here right after the mages put it up.”

“Oh. I mean, yeah, that makes sense. Is the Barrier what makes it snow here, under the mountain?”

Sans makes a contemplative humming noise before answering. “maybe. there’s no solid explanation for it, really. just always snowed in snowdin.”

The brother’s house comes into view a moment later as your group passes the wolf throwing ice into the river. Papyrus opens the door for Frisk, their hand still in his. To your surprise, without prodding, Sans continues his explanation.

“the barrier is like a deflector field around the entire underground, but instead of keeping bad things out it keeps us monsters trapped inside. far as we know the only thing that barrier blocks are things made of magic. s’no problem throwing rocks through it.”

“SANS, WHERE DID YOU PUT MY COLANDER. I NEED TO MAKE OUR NEW FRIENDS MY SPECIAL SECRET FRIENDSHIP FOOD!”

“shit,” Sans whispers, a tiny wince visible on his skull until he covers it with a shrug. You’re sure you would have missed the wince if you weren’t just listening intently to what he was telling you about the Barrier.

This is the most new information you’ve gathered since leaving the Ruins, so you’re hoping to get more out of him. The more you know about it, you figure the easier it will be to help take it down. Books you’d studied at Toriel’s said things about human Souls being able to pass through, though the images in that text showed just the Souls and not the rest of the human body carrying it. Sans and Toriel both have warned you that Asgore intends to take your Soul, but you can’t stop believing there’s another way. You just need to find the loophole!

“here, bro, it’s probably hiding in the bottom cupboard.”

“HIDING? WHY WOULD IT HIDE?”

“dunno, maybe the new company makes it feel a little _strained_.”

“SANS!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon-typical violence
> 
> I'm not deeeeaaaaad! 
> 
> It's been a few weeks, how are you guys? Doing good? Feeling good? Hope you had a great holiday and the new year has good things on the horizon for you. I took a wee break to write and complete a Christmas fic that you can read here: [Baby, It's Skulls Outside!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890364/chapters/29447883). It's a skeleton OC x Reader fic that earns its E rating ifyouknowwhati'msayin. Holiday fluff and angst!
> 
> Love you guys, I look forward to working on this more now that the other fic is completed :)


	12. It's Raining Somewhere Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

You have trouble sleeping that night in the brother’s house.

Papyrus eventually found his colander after several pasta and kitchen puns. The taller skeleton was reduced to stomping his foot in frustration at the sheer ludicracy of his brother’s punning tenacity. It’s obvious this happens even when they don’t have company, judging by the short fuse Papyrus has after only a few bad jokes.

You have to admit, some of them are awful, but other ones are clever and you try to cover your snickers so Papyrus doesn’t see you laughing along. Frisk isn’t immune either, and joins in with puns in ASL that sometimes fly over Papyrus’s head. Sans catches it each time he gets a reaction out of you. He winks in your direction more than once as the four of you work to make dinner. Well. Three of you. Sans set the table.

Dinner was...interesting, to say the least. The ‘Special Secret Friendship Food’ turned out to be spaghetti made from more of the Underground’s strange replacements for food found topside. The sauce was a little too pink to be made from tomatoes and the noodles were still a little crunchy once the four of you sat down to eat. Even though you were able to help at the start, Papyrus insisted on finishing the cooking alone, shooing Sans to show you and Frisk around. It should have taken longer to make that much food, but judging by the smells and sounds coming from the kitchen as Sans gave you and Frisk a short tour of their home, Papyrus had likely just come short of burning the house down.

You wouldn’t call the meal bad, just really, very unexpected. Spaghetti was never your favorite meal, but you don’t remember it being such an odd combination of smoky and sweet. You and Frisk still had seconds, even if it was out of necessity since it takes so much monster food for you to feel anywhere close to full. The look of glee on Papyrus’s face when the tradition of guessing what each food item did to affect your Soul made every bite worth it. Frisk got each and every thing correct, and you couldn't help but be a little jealous, only determined to try harder.

After the exciting first day out of the Ruins, you should be exhausted, sleeping as soundly as Frisk at the other end of the couch. The two of you fit easily on the brother’s couch, each using one armrest as a pillow, legs tangled together under the heavy comforter Papyrus pulled out from a closet. The taller brother would certainly need a couch this large to be comfortable, but you felt like small child on it, just like you had with most of Toriel’s furniture.

In the quiet of the night you think of her, wondering if she’s okay, or has returned to her routine like she’d never met the two of you. She was the closest thing you’ve had to a stable mother figure in years. It hurts to think about her for too long.

Night in this part of the Underground is strange. In the Ruins the roof is close enough to see, easily, and you bet if you were to sit on Toriel’s shoulders you could almost reach it in most places. Here your eyes scan what Sans said is the Barrier. The light in the purple-hued Ruins didn’t change throughout the day, erasing most of the feeling of time passing. You’d read once about a man who lived underground without access to any sunlight for a few weeks but his body still found a sleep and wake cycle to follow, and you suspect it’s much the same down here.

But, in Snowdin, there’s a subtle change in the atmosphere as the clock ticks from late evening and on through the wee hours of the morning. The glare off the snow outside the front window isn’t as harsh. Shadows from the Barrier above feel deeper, more impenetrable this time of night, and you crave the sight of stars. A moon. Anything.

You move slowly to slide out from under the blanket on the couch, careful to not wake Frisk. The carpet is plush beneath your bare feet, swallowing any sort of sound you make as you shuffle towards the front window, moving to kneel in front of it. Resting your arms on the windowsill, you watch the world outside in wonder.

It’s difficult to make out things at a distance, but you can see the dark lines of ledges and the tops of homes from far away. The town didn’t feel any bigger than the little mountain village you knew was somewhere above you. Stopping in Ebott with your foster family was the last time you’d been in ‘civilization’. It’s a heavy thought, something you haven’t given yourself time to think about yet.

There’s a creak above and behind you, and your head turns quick enough to look for the cause that your neck cracks. After staring outside your eyes need a blink or two to adjust back to the shadows inside, but you can see the little eye lights in Sans’s skull as he walks down the stairs. He’s not wearing his blue hoodie, but he is still wearing the dark basketball shorts with a long sleeved shirt. You still don’t understand the mechanics of how a skeleton can look like he has organs and skin, and just assume it’s either magic-based or he has an invisible body of some kind.

He makes a beeline for your spot on the floor. His hands find the pockets of his shorts. “can’t sleep either, huh?”

You shake your head. Pitching your voice to a whisper, you shrug and say, “I don’t sleep much.”

“me neither.” A slightly awkward silence falls between you, with Sans looking out the window before saying, “you hungry or thirsty or somethin’?”

“Actually, yeah. Monster food isn’t all that filling for us.”

Sans hesitates before reaching a hand out to help you up, but you had already used the ledge of the window to stand, so he stuffs it back into his pocket before you notice. “didn’t realize that. we got plenty to eat here, so you don’t hafta go hungry or nothin’. just ask.”

“I...okay. It’s just that we’re already probably taking a lot from you guys.” You follow him into the kitchen, still moving and speaking quietly. He flips on a light over the stove to provide just enough light to see without stumbling but not enough to wake Frisk. “It’s really kind of you to let us stay.”

“my bro and i might not have hearts, but we would never be as _heartless_ to leave two kids out in the cold.”

“I mean, I don’t know old you guys are, but Frisk and I aren’t exactly kids.” You can’t help it. It kind of strikes a nerve each time he’s called you kid, or kiddo.

Sans stops on his way to the fridge, and you recognize the pinching at the edge of his lips around the permanent grin. In the low light he starts to look as menacing as he did in that encounter outside the Ruins, but the loose pants, shirt with a rip on the hem, and fluffy pink slippers slightly tempers that image.

“We’re like, seventeen. Wait, or are we eighteen now?” You stop to think how long you’ve been underground at this point. “We fell into the Ruins in April...how long were we with Toriel? Well, either way, we’re not kids. We’re adults.”

“adults, huh?” A dry chuckle starts to loosen the edges of Sans’s grin, and he pulls open the fridge door. Most of him is hidden behind it, especially when he bends down to grab something inside.

You’re starting to get annoyed, and cross your arms with a huff. “Yes. Adults. And that means as soon as we get us all out of here, we can go off on our own.”

“uh huh. if you say so, buddy.”

“I do say so.”

“right. you want this warmed up, or d’ya care if we eat it cold? microwave’s a little clunky and loud.”

The container he took out has something that looks like a little pie inside, and his other hand is holding one of the largest ketchup bottles you’ve ever seen. You don’t really like the way he’s brushing you off but you are _really_ hungry. And he didn’t call you kiddo this time.

“I mean, cold is fine. What is that, anyway?”

“quiche.”

“Really?”

He looks at you with a slow blink. “really, really.”

You take a closer look when Sans takes two plates out of the cupboard and serves each of you a slice. As he does, you look over to see if Frisk reacted at all to your voices or the sound of silverware hitting the plates. The dark tuft of hair sticking out the top of the blanket hasn’t moved so you figure you’ve been quiet enough.

The kitchen is quiet except for the sounds of eating and silverware hitting your plates. It’s a relatively small snack for you but it’s enough to make you feel full, and even a little sleepy. You squint your eyes a little as you chew, listening to your Soul to check if there’s any direct magic effect, and you can’t find one right away. After a few more bites you notice Sans’s eyelids are heavy as well, so you decide to ask.

“Any special effects on this quiche?”

“i could throw some confetti if you want. light a fire, get some pyrotechnics going.”

“Oh, my god,” you say, rolling your eyes even as you giggle. “You know what I mean. Soul stuff.”

“yep. it’s sleepy-quiche.” He yawns immediately after finishing his last bite. His hands rest on the front of his shirt where a human belly would be, the space beneath his shirt a little bigger now and if you were more awake you might have asked him how that works. “best midnight snack to get back to bed.”

“Did Papyrus make this?”

Sans shakes his head, yawning again, pointing to himself. Huh. You didn’t peg him as the cooking type. You take your time with the last few bites, enjoying one of the tastiest meals you’ve eaten Underground so far. Only the cinnamon-butterscotch pie could hold a candle to it. You’re so focused on the food, getting the last few crumbs of crust with your fork, you don’t notice Sans watching you until he speaks.

“do you really not know how long you’ve been underground?”

“Um. I guess it’s been almost two months now, but it’s hard to tell. Days kind of blurred together in the Ruins after a while.”

Sans pushes his plate away, and reaches to take yours and stack them on the table. He folds his hands on the table like he wants to ask you more, so you sit back and wait. You don’t really want to move yet, anyway, the sleepy-quiche starting to work its literal magic.

“what happened?”

“What do you mean? Gotta be more specific.”

“how did you two get to the underground?”

“We tripped and fell into a hole in the middle of the forest. Simple as that.”

Even topside, you didn’t like talking about your home life. The look of pity when you told people you were in a foster family, or if they found out somehow, it all annoyed you. But sitting here in the brother’s kitchen full of a great-tasting and relaxing meal, you want to share more.

“How about this,” you start to say, opening your eyes after you realized you’d shut them. “Tomorrow. You and me, we talk. I wanna know why a monster that was so keen on encountering us right off the bat is helping us now and I’m sure you have more questions for me. How does that sound, skeleton man?”

“sounds great, kid - er - buddy. let’s get you back to bed.”

You mumble into your neck to agree with him, your head lolling forward into your sleep shirt. Exhaustion makes you oblivious to the feeling of someone reaching over to help you up out of your chair and lead you over to the couch, tucking you in before he walks back upstairs.

* * *

 

“So you really do enjoy drinking ketchup? What about other condiments or whatever?”

“just ketchup.” Sans purposefully holds your gaze as he tips the container back and takes a deep swallow. “it’s _sauce_ -sational.”

“That’s just...so gross to me.” You wrinkle your nose and push it further beneath your scarf.

Sitting out in the middle of the forest with Sans as he works wasn’t how you expected to have your talk, but he looked at you with a brow-bone raised and explained he still has to show up at his job. And, since you’re impatient to keep moving forward, you asked if you could tag along, and after a few seconds staring at you, he’d shrugged and agreed. The extra coat Papyrus found for you definitely makes it more comfortable to sit out here than just wearing your Delta tunic does, but it’s still cold. You envy the way Sans looks relaxed in the chilly weather, back to wearing basketball shorts, threadbare slippers, and the same blue hoodie as the day before.

Papyrus didn’t have Guard duties today so he and Frisk announced plans to watch every Mettaton special the brothers have on VHS. After so many admonishments for Sans’s laziness, you were surprised Papyrus was so ready to give into a traditionally lazy activity. But the look on the skeleton’s face whenever the robot was onscreen told you all you needed to know. You know what a celebrity crush looks like when you see one.

“don’t knock it til’ you’ve tried it. ‘sides, you’re one to talk. you put sugar in your coffee.”

“That is a totally normal thing to do!” you say indignantly. If you weren’t huddled on the floor of his sentry hut, you would have stomped your foot. Which, now that you think on it, isn’t the best way to prove that you’re an adult.

You’d mentioned it to Frisk when the two of you were using the brother’s bathroom to brush your teeth and when Frisk helped you braid your hair. Typically you just trim it yourself, even your bangs after a lot of trial and error, but you haven’t seen a pair of scissors since you fell into the Underground, and it had been a couple months since your last trim before that.

“Frisk, you think it’s been our birthday yet?”

You can tell they heard you by the way their fingers twitch in your hair, like they want to sign an answer. They finish it off, tying the end with a piece of string you’d been using since Toriel’s. The three hair ties you know you had on your wrist when you fell were all already gone.

_Maybe? Do you remember what day it was when we fell_?

“Sometime around, uh, April twenty-something-ish? Close to Easter, because it was Spring Break. And we’ve been down here for at least a month, if not more.”

Frisk nods slowly, pushing their hair out of their eyes. It’s almost long enough to tie up on top of their head, too. You’ll have to check if the brothers have scissors or ask where monsters with hair go to get a trim.

_I feel like it’s already passed, to be honest. We were with Toriel for more than a month for sure. I kept a journal._

“You did?”

_Yeah. It’s in the back of the notebook I brought from Toriel’s. That’s why I grabbed it. I might have missed a day or two writing in it but I’m sure I made notes of almost every day._

“That’s awesome! Where is it?”

Frisk looks at you with a sharp frown, a flash of emotion crossing their milky eyes. It’s not often they stare directly at you anymore, ever since their last eye appointment where the doctor said their vision is only getting worse.

_Nowhere. You can’t read it_.

The sudden venom gives you pause, the instinct to back off tickling at the back of your mind, but you set your jaw and press on. You don’t mind Frisk having their secrets but this could be important.

“Why is it such a big deal?”

_It’s private, ________._

“Fine. If I can’t see it, at least tell me how many days you’ve taken notes so we have some idea how much time has passed down here.”

_Later_.

Frisk shoots out of the bathroom, leaving the door open wide as they stomp away and down the stairs to your backpacks. Blinking with bleary eye sockets, Sans chose that moment to walk by the bathroom, catching you glaring in the direction Frisk was a moment before, your arms crossed. You didn’t give him a chance to ask anything before you’d gathered up your stuff and followed Frisk out.

And of course, in the middle of the chilly forest, he decides to bring that up again.

“frisk looked pretty happy to not tag along today,” sans says, putting the now empty ketchup bottle on a shelf under the top of the station. He lifts his feet up to recline back on two legs of his chair, looking over at your corner with half-lidded sockets. “you two fightin’?”

“No,” you answer a little too quickly.

Sans doesn’t say a word, just lifts a brow-bone like he had this morning. You don’t give in. You’ve faced tougher, more persistent people and you don’t feel like talking about what you and Frisk were arguing about.

“Frisk and I think we fell at the end of April, so it’s very likely we’re eighteen now. Not that it makes a difference until we figure out how to get everyone out of the Underground.”

“you keep saying everyone.”

“Uh, duh? That was the whole point of leaving the Ruins in the first place. It’s wrong monsters are trapped down here. I’m sure Frisk and I could have, I don’t know, built a ladder or something to get out through that hole we fell into but...why are you looking at me like that?”

Sans blinks very slowly. He’d taken his feet down off the ledge of the station to lean forward, hands on his thighbones to look at you. You glance to the left and right once his gaze gets too intense. At least his eye lights didn’t go out. That _really_ freaks you out. You don’t have anywhere to go sitting on the floor of the sentry station. When the two of you had taken one of Sans’s shortcuts here he’d asked you to hide there in case any monsters came by, which you agreed was a good idea, but now you wish you had room to move.

“i don’t understand you, s’all.”

“And what, staring at me will help you figure me out? Can you, like, back up a few inches, please?”

He does as you ask but sitting there with his hands on his pockets, his gaze doesn’t lose any intensity.

“Better,” you say, adjusting your legs when you notice one fell asleep. You curl and uncurl your toes inside your boot and grit your teeth at the feeling. “We were with Toriel for about a month. She taught us a lot about how magic works, a little about what happened to monsters when they were locked down here in the first place.”

“what about before? before you fell down here?”

You play with your gloves instead of looking at him. You did promise to give him more information. Out here in the near silence of the forest makes you a little less self-conscious about telling him about your life before all this started.

“When we were almost nine years old, our parents died in an accident. Both of them worked in a factory that made batteries and there was a fire and, uh,” you pause and shrug. “They didn’t have a lot of family besides us. Our grandpa couldn’t take us in since he was on chemo and died a couple years later anyway. So we went into foster care.”

It doesn’t hurt to talk about as much as you thought it would. Your voice doesn’t crack when you talk about them anymore.

“what’s chemo?” Sans asks quietly.

“Oh, shit, sorry, should have explained that better. Chemo is short for chemotherapy. It’s a kind of treatment for a really bad human disease called cancer.”

Sans waves a bony hand. “don’t worry, i’m following close enough. i’ll ask ya again if i need t’get clarification.”

With a deep inhale, you continue, the words coming easier and easier the more you talk.

“Frisk and I were outside the factory when it caught fire. Mom was going inside to get dad, and we were packed to go on a trip somewhere. I think Disney? Do you know what that is?”

Sans nods. “a few tapes of those movies made it through the dump.”

You grimace at the mention of the trash pile Toriel and Sans had both mentioned, where a majority of the modern things monsters have come from.

“We were playing outside when it happened, and Frisk got hurt in the initial blast. That’s why they can’t hear or see very well. They were sitting under an office window before it exploded from the gas burning inside the building. When the firefighters came, and the ambulances, they helped them but took them to the hospital without me, leaving me behind to wait for our parents. It was...it was awful. So much happened before we knew for sure they were gone.

“By the time school started again in the fall, Frisk was able to leave the hospital and join me at our first foster home. They already used sign language before the accident, but they were an even bigger target coming back to school with a bunch of bandages over their eyes and ears. It took a lot of surgeries for them to be able to recover at all.”

You pause speaking again, this time from Sans lifting a hand to shush you. His eye lights scanned the road you can’t see, and he glances at you once before popping away. It’s not long before he’s back again, making you jump with his sudden reappearance, but you didn’t breathe the whole time he was gone.

“no one’s there. just some snow fallin’ out of a tree, trying to put our conversation _on ice_.” The skeleton settles back into his chair, giving you his undivided attention.

You shoot Sans a look that says _really?_ But after another breath you continue, close to the end of your turn.

“Long story short, human kids are a bunch of assholes.” Sans makes a coughing noise, and you wait a second for him to stop before continuing. “We were in a lot of foster families at a bunch of schools before falling down here. And as much as our experience on the Surface has royally sucked, doesn’t mean you guys should be trapped down here.”

“s’rough stuff, buddy. you and frisk are good kids who have had a lot of rotten shit to deal with.”

“Not any worse than being imprisoned under a mountain.”

That surprises a laugh out of him. “could say our king is _under pressure_ to figure out a way t’get us outta here, that’s for sure.”

It feels good to get him to laugh. From what you can tell, when he’s not being scary, Sans is definitely one of the funniest people you’ve ever met. Even with the bad puns, the humor makes it hard not to like and trust him. The silence between you is almost relaxed, and Sans even lowers his eyelids almost all the way, looking ready to take a nap. You almost feel bad for interrupting him.

“What about you, Sans? Toriel warned us about other monsters when we left, and you were the first one we met. And you looked ready to attack us on sight.”

Whatever relaxation Sans showed is gone, disappearing with a snap. “can never be too careful.”

It sounds like he’s hedging, which feels very unfair. You’d spilled some of your secrets and now he’s holding out. That wasn’t part of the bargain.

“you two must really want to go home, huh?”

The non sequitur throws you off even more, and startles you into answering honestly. “Well, not the home we came from, but I definitely want to get back to the Surface.”

“even after everything that’s happened to you up there?”

“I mean, yeah,” you say, full of conviction. “I want Frisk and I to have a life away from foster parents, and they’ve got a scholarship for a robotics program at an out of state university and...what?”

“maybe it’s better to take what’s given to you.” He's so intense, but you don't back down.

“Falling into a prison was given to me?” Anger bubbles up inside at whatever Sans is implying. “Why are you trying to stop us from breaking the Barrier, Sans?”

“don’t get me wrong,” Sans says, adjusting to lean back in his chair again. “i’m rootin for ya. it’s just a little strange you want to sacrifice your soul for us, is all.”

“But there has to be another way to-”

“d o n ‘ t  y o u  t h i n k  w e ‘ v e  t r i e d ?”

The lights in Sans’s eyes disappear and he’s leaning towards you again. Instead of the easy grin, the corners of his mouth are turned down almost into a frown, a melancholy jack-o-lantern like face that sends shivers up and down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold air. You cower into the corner as Sans stares at you with eyes that could swallow you whole.

“listen. there’s only one way t’break that barrier, buddo. lotsa monsters have dusted to make sure a'that. what it needs are souls and there’s only one way t’get ‘em.”

Your voice trembles when you speak. “You were gonna take our Souls, weren’t you?”

Sans doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

“Then, why didn’t you?”

“i made a promise. any human exiting that door with her symbol is not to be touched. they get taken through the underground safely and sent back to their own kind without a scratch to their soul.”

You can’t blink, or stop yourself from asking, “And if we weren’t then-”

“you’d be dead where you stand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)   
> **Potential trigger warnings** : None in this one.
> 
> Hey friends! I got inspired over the holiday weekend after finishing my holiday fic. As always I'd love to hear your thoughts okay baiiii happy 2018


	13. Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans was certainly a butt last time for someone who doesn't have one, wasn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).
> 
> Just a reminder to see the end notes for specific trigger warnings, since it's been a few chapters since I mentioned that.

The sentry station is a good distance behind you now, and if you felt like looking back behind you then you may not have been able to make it through the trees. As it was, you had your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Frisk to pick up theirs. The brick of a device is cold in your hand but it’s hardy enough to stand the cold. If only Frisk would answer!

Part of you is surprised Sans didn’t stop you from leaving the station, and you’re wondering if he’s following you now too quietly for you to hear, but there was no way you were staying after what he said.

You were just beginning to trust him, or at least ignore the fact he’d encountered the two of you immediately out of the Ruins. Everything you’d learned from Toriel meant that an encounter was a monster method of greeting that fell to the wayside before being trapped underground because humans couldn’t initiate them. Starting one with a human nowadays meant the monster felt threatened or intended to cause harm.

Sans proved that quite efficiently, thank you very much.

Fuck him. You don’t need him, and you’re sure you and Frisk can find a solution that doesn’t involve staying stuck under a mountain  with a skeleton who said he would murder you if you’d decided to wear a different shirt. Now you really regret going through the door to the Ruins. It was a joke, but the more you think about it you wonder if you could have built a ladder to get out through the hole you fell into with the vines in that cavern...too late to think of that now.

You stop to try and get your bearings on the path. You sort of remember crossing over a small bridge earlier, but you feel like you should be seeing fewer trees and more snow piles, maybe another building. There’s only more and more trees. You spin around in a tight circle, and lift the phone to try Frisk for the dozenth time. No answer. Of course. They probably didn’t even see it lighting up and were having a grand old time with the other skeleton monster that had tried to hurt you.

You feel so duped.

What is it about monsters that make you forgive them so fast? Holding grudges came second nature to you before, a method of keeping you and Frisk safe, a healthy sense of caution and skepticism protecting you for the entire time you were in foster care.

Damnit, there are little tears in your eyes that are starting to freeze in the cold air. You didn’t want to cry. It’s all so frustrating. You feel like you’re on the end of the world’s yo-yo and getting smacked each time it falls to the ground. Meeting the brothers felt like you were finally catching a break, but that was turning out to be a huge manipulation attempt.

You wander a little more, blind to the cold by your own crippling confusion and hopelessness. The snow starts to get higher than your ankles and your toes go numb not long after that. Bending into the wind to protect your face, you shove your phone into the pocket of the coat and press on. Surely you’ll find Snowdin soon, then grab Frisk, and get the hell away from Sans and Papyrus and every other monster that could convince you they want something other than to kill you or Frisk and take your Soul.

Why do you want to even save these things, anyway? All that’s happened so far is they want to hurt you at every turn.

No. That’s not true. Monsters in the Ruins looked and sounded terrified every time they brought you into an encounter of any kind, and were relieved when it ended in a spare. It’s difficult to hide emotions in an encounter, after all, with Souls bared. The magic and science of it all still eludes you, and you know Frisk is catching on a lot faster than you somehow, but you grasp enough of the concept to understand that. You feel bad for calling them things, even in the privacy of your head. They’re definitely people, no doubt about it. A people with their own culture, wants, needs, and the right to not be trapped against their will under a mountain.

The anger keeping you warm starts to dissipate as you hit a literal and figurative wall. The top of your head, bowed against the wind, bops against stone with a dull thunk. A great expanse of stone stretches in front of you and to the right and left as far as you can see. In the back of your mind you remember the door to Toriel is here somewhere. You put your left hand against the wall and start to walk.

You start to move slower the further you go, the cold seeping into your bones slowly enough you don’t notice the subtle changes, and quickly enough to trap you without warning. With fingers stiff and numb you reach for your phone in your pocket, and clench the blocky phone as tight as you can. It slips out of your hand as easily as if it were a stick of butter.

“Shit,” you mumble to yourself.

Leaning down to dig it out of the snow, you feel your body resist the movement. Your breath is starting to collect in your scarf around your neck and face, little ice crystals forming between every gust of warm air from your lips. Some part of your brain tries to warn you to keep moving but...you’re just so tired. So tired of everything.

The weight on your Soul makes it hard to want to press on, to continue through the Underground.

Maybe...maybe you’ll just sit and rest for a minute. Yeah. Then try calling Frisk again.

Just a minute.

 

Just…

 

Sleep.

  


 

Sleep…

  


 

 

You’re warm. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Everything feels more peaceful, and you ignore the tugging on your arm.

“Five more minutes,” you mumble into your scarf.

Ouch. That hurt your lips for some reason. Oh, well, you don’t want to talk anyway.

The tugging gets worse, but instead of your arm, you feel the pressure on your Soul change. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the bliss of sleep where you can forget all the shit that’s happened to you since falling into the Underground, or even since your parents died in the factory fire.

Pins and needles cover you body as the pressure gets worse, and you feel like you’re tumbling through a dryer on the highest spin setting. The imagery surprises you enough to start giggling. Ouch! That _really_ hurts your lips! But it’s so funny, the image of tossing and turning in a machine, just surrounded by towels and shirts, round and round and round and-

“________!” The voice cuts through the fog of your private joke, and you wince against it.

“Not s’loud, jeez,” you say, trying to lift your arms to cover your face.

Someone pulls them down and their hands stay on your arms. You can feel them through your sleeves. “hey, buddy, stay with me.”

You automatically recoil from that voice. Sans. The last person in the Underground you want to see. Scratch that, he isn’t even on the _list_ right now.

“hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t move too much. just stay awake. can you do that for me, bud?”

“SANS WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE HUMAN?”

“paps i need you to...and help me carry her to grillby’s before she...can you do that?”

It gets harder and harder to make out what Sans is saying to Papyrus, but the taller skeleton’s voice cuts through your fog easily. Heh. Fog. You’d fought him in fog. Was that yesterday? Everything is blurring.

You’re dimly aware of large arms carrying you like a child, and you let yourself fall limply against them, the enveloping warmth cutting through your daze as easily as Papyrus’s voice. The person carrying you isn’t breathing at all. Is that weird? Trying to think about it makes your head hurt, so you just return to limply going along with what’s happening.

Nothing matters anyway, right? Your throat starts to bubble with manic laughter again as you bounce along the person’s shoulder.

Why care? Give in!

Nothing matters! Everyone has made that abundantly clear, no matter what you do, there’s only one way this is going to go.

Toriel said it.

The books said it.

Sans said it.

You’re just going to die at the end.

* * *

 

 

Fuck.

 

How many times will you have to wake up feeling like you wish you were dead?

There’s a heavy weight over your entire body except your neck and head, and it makes it hard to move your arms and legs. Oof. Sore is an understatement. Did you fall out of a tree and hit every branch on the way down?

No. That can’t be it, because you’ve developed a healthy wariness of heights ever since falling into the Underground, you would remember climbing a tree. There would be a good reason.

Opening your eyes doesn’t change the level of darkness in the room, and you realize there’s a cloth or blindfold over you. Fighting the screaming from your muscles, you pull one of your hands out from under the covers to remove it, get your bearings.

 **_I wouldn’t do that, yet, if I were you_ **.

Your hand stills under the covers. Alarm bells ring your head immediately. You couldn’t move more if you wanted to, fight or flight warring in your head just from the sound of that voice, a rabbit caught in a fox’s sights.

“Who-” oh god it hurts more to speak than to move.

**_Don’t speak, idiot._ **

You flinch at the way they spit that word. Is it a child’s voice, or someone very old? You can’t tell. You can feel your heartbeat rising as you fight against the spell of fear keeping you pinned to this unknown mattress.

When the voice speaks again, it feels closer, but you didn’t hear footsteps. You try to flinch away.

**_Anyway. It doesn’t matter who I am. I don’t have much time. Your Soul is healing faster than I expected._ **

**_The only reason you’re still alive is because you’re making this interesting. And, there’s a chance that in some timeline, your foolish hope to help the monsters will work. I want them free more than anyone else. Humans need to be taught a lesson_ **

**_With the monsters free, I can teach it to them._ **

**_I will be free._ **

**_So, do yourself and me a favor, you idiotic meatsack._ **

**_Don’t fucking die again._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon-typical violence and threats, hypothermia, crippling nihilism, character death.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I'm seriously considering shortening the chapter length to around this instead of the monster 4-5k word chapters I've done the last few updates. Do you guys prefer a shorter update that could potentially be posted more often, or do you prefer longer updates that might have more time between them? Let me know below!


	14. Dogsong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

You have trouble sleeping that night in the brother’s house.

Papyrus eventually found his colander after several pasta and kitchen puns. The taller skeleton was reduced to stomping his foot in frustration at the sheer ludicracy of his brother’s punning tenacity. It’s obvious this happens even when they don’t have company, judging by the short fuse Papyrus has after only a few bad jokes.

You have to admit, some of them are awful, but some are really clever. Even if you feel like you’ve heard them before, Sans makes them feel fresh and new. You weren’t into stand up or comedy movies before, that was more Frisk’s line of entertainment, but you’re warming up to Sans’s goofy humor.

Frisk stirs next to you as you think back on the strange dinner you shared with the skeleton brothers. It seems you’re not the only one having trouble sleeping.

“Hey,” you whisper, patting the foot closest to you under the covers to get their attention in case they can’t hear you. 

Though it seems easier for them to hear and see down here than on the Surface, something you’re attributing to the general black magic fuckery of the whole Underground, you still need to make physical contact with them in the dark. Frisk responds by turning their head towards you. Their hair is getting really long now, and you wonder where you can find a pair of scissors to trim it for them. Or maybe they want to grow it out?

_ Can’t sleep either? _

You shake your head, reverting to sign now that they’re looking at you, so you can avoid waking the brothers on the second floor. Papyrus tried to offer his race car bed for the two of you, but the skeleton’s couch was much larger. And you felt a little weird about taking the monster’s bed, since it was weird enough to stay the night with them in the first place.

_ I had a weird dream _ , you sign.

Frisk sits up a little so they have freer use of their hands.  _ Do you remember any of it _ ?

You shrug, and stare out the window.  _ Not really. The longer I’m awake the more it fades. _

With a yawn wide enough to crack their jaw, they start to settle back down onto the couch, facing up instead of laying on their side. Though their eyes are closed you can tell they aren’t going to fall asleep for a bit.

Sitting on the enormous couch, you feel like a small child, just like you did with a lot of Toriel’s furniture. Before you know it, you’re blinking away tears from your eyes and letting out a shuddering sigh. Frisk is sitting up again in an instant, holding you in a half-hug. It’s a rare switch in the roles you usually play, with Frisk being the comforter, the strong one, where you fall into the briny waves of suppressed emotion.

One hand rubs your shoulders as the other twines its fingers through yours, Frisk leaning their head on your shoulder. You feel a little tug, and the gloomy room switches to pitch black save for the now familiar red and purple glows of your Souls. When you try to pull away to see what monster drew you into an encounter, Frisk holds your physical body more firmly.

_ Shhh _ , their encounter-voice soothes you.  _ I started the encounter. I thought you could use some guaranteed privacy. _

_ How are you doing this?  _ you think at them, testing the waters of using a non verbal speech method, too. It seems to work, because they respond.

Their shoulder shrugs against yours, and before you can protest the way they’re dodging your question, Frisk says,  _ I didn’t know it would work to be honest, but it sort of, I don’t know, felt right? _

You snort an unattractive laugh, wrapping your physical arms around Frisk’s torso, careful not to tickle them. It’s odd to feel them sitting next to you, but you can see their Soul hovering across from you the same way a monster would appear in the encounter. The glow from your combined Souls should be blinding in the darkness, but it reminds you of looking into the fireplace at Toriel’s. 

And, there are the tears again. God, you can’t stand this.

_ Frisk? Do you think we should have stayed with Toriel? _

You know they heard you but you give them the time they need to answer. Honestly, you were expecting a brash ‘no’ immediately from them. It’s rare they show regret over any decision, no matter what it was, a fierce deliberate nature to almost everything they do. You equally admire and get annoyed at them for it.

_ I think we’re right where we need to be right now _ , they say.

_ I can’t stop thinking about her, though. I really, really miss her, Frisk. _

Soft trills of sounds mix with your voices, the frequency low enough you can’t make it out, but you’re aware it’s there. A soft pulse of red light emanates from Frisk’s Soul, bouncing off yours like a visible sound wave, and you feel hugged not only by their arms but their Soul. Automatically a responding wave flies from your Soul to theirs. It’s as comforting as it is overwhelming to feel so much love from your twin. You’ve always been close but…this is more. You’re sharing the burden of fear and anxiety between you, and for the first time you know the two of you are on the same page.

You are going to free the monsters, you are going to meet with the Royal Scientist to figure out a way to get both of you out of here alive.

The encounter falls naturally as the two of you fall asleep supporting each other. You’re breathing deeply enough that the older skeleton brother sneaks past you to the kitchen for a midnight snack without waking either of you.

* * *

 

Waking up the next morning, you forget any details of your nightmare you could remember the night before. Papyrus entered the kitchen like a hurricane, startling you and Frisk awake, knocking your heads together. Sleeping that way, while comforting at first, forced a few kinks in your neck and tension in your shoulders.

Frisk stands, rubbing the spot on their head where  you collided, and signals they’re going upstairs to use the bathroom. You wave them away, and stand up to stretch your arms as high as you can. A few of your vertebrae pop loudly and you sigh at the relief, lowering your hands to rub the back of your neck and the little bump on your head. The light outside the living room window is eerily blue off the white snow, like bioluminescent plants, which makes sense to you since you’re underground, but you don’t remember seeing any plants like that the day before.

You get up to look outside, peering around at the quiet hubbub of monsters starting their days.

“might want to step back,” a rough voice says from the stairs behind you.

Turning, you see Sans slowly plodding down. He’s still wearing the pink fuzzy slippers, the loose white t-shirt, but he switched out his shorts for long striped pajamas. He looks so  _ normal _ your brain has trouble grasping it for a second. There are smudges beneath his eyes that make the off-white bone look bruised, and you realize he gets under-eye circles like a human would.

“Why?” you ask, fighting a yawn.

The motion is contagious and Sans yawns back before answering, continuing his slow tread to the kitchen where Papyrus is making almost as much commotion as he had making dinner.

“monsters will see ya and wonder who’s staying over,” he says.

“Oh,” you mumble, stepping back from the window. Frisk emerges from the bathroom at the same time, so you head up the stairs to take your turn.

It always felt weird to you to use someone else’s bathroom when you were at their house. Not that it happened all that often to you, but there was always that initial awkwardness. You want a shower, but there’s no way you’ll take one here. Far too weird. You’d been surprised enough to see a toilet in the brother’s bathroom, though it looked unused, dust coating it in an otherwise immaculately kept room. For some reason you know that is Papyrus’s doing.

Looking in the mirror, you wish you had scissors for your hair, too. Your bangs are growing out and your hair is the longest its been in years.  Maybe Frisk can braid it for you later.

Speaking of, what was your plan today? Something wants to make you dither in Snowdin, like you’re forgetting to do something important, but the draw of getting to the Royal Scientist is stronger.

Sans mentioned her over dinner very briefly the night before, and Toriel had talked of the position with praise. From the way you see it, the position is a pretty important one in the monarchy underground, only second in power to the Captain of the Royal Guard. Undyne.

Right. Undyne. 

The first time you heard her name from Papyrus you’d gotten a shiver up your spine. Anyone who could Captain a Royal Guard of monsters made you instantly on edge. Normal monster citizens have significant power by themselves. What is she like, then? It doesn’t matter. You need to get to Alphys no matter what. You can feel it in your Soul.

It’s disarming having such a strong feeling come from a part of you that you’d only been aware of for, what now, how long has it been?

As if he was reading your mind, Sans speaks up over his mug of coffee. “how long you guys been down here, then?”

Frisk speaks up faster than you, unhindered by a full mouth.  _ We fell in late April to the Ruins. I’m pretty sure we were there for, what, about a month? _ They look to you for confirmation.

“Yeah, longer than that I think. It’s gotta be…” you pause and your eyes widen. “Early June. That means our birthday is coming up.”

For a moment, Frisk looks at you with a weird side squint, but it dawns on them, too.  _ No matter what, we’re eighteen. We’re free! _

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘FREE’, HUMANS? WERE YOU KEPT AS SLAVES ON THE SURFACE WORLD?” Papyrus seems genuinely distraught at the idea, and your heart melts.

“No, nothing like that, Papyrus,” you say to reassure him. Your emotions start to spill up and over into your words, a genuinely happy smile on your lips. “Humans are considered adults at eighteen years old in most parts of the world. When we get everyone out of here, we can go and live our own lives, we don’t need to stay-” you hesitate, not sure how to explain this part, “-uh, we don’t have to be, um, taken care of anymore.”

“THAT SOUNDS A LITTLE SILLY,” he says, looking far less upset at your explanation. Actually, he looks close to laughter. “EVERYONE NEEDS TO BE TAKEN CARE OF SOMETIMES. WHY, IF SANS DIDN’T HAVE ME TO LOOK UP TO, HE WOULD BE A BIGGER LAZYBONES THAN HE ALREADY IS.”

“s’right, paps. i’ll always  _ look up to you _ .”

“SANS,” Papyrus warns.

The punning skeleton gets up from the table to put his mug by the sink and saunters by the table with what you can only describe as a shit-eating grin. Your eyes follow his every movement, the hanging tension of another jape keeping you on the edge of your seat.

“don’t worry, little bro. you’ll always have me around to keep you from working yourself to the  _ bone _ .”

You look at Papyrus expectantly, but instead of an outburst, he is furrowing his brow bones and moves his eye sockets in a weird twist of the skull. Oh! He’s rolling his eyes. A much milder response. He looks almost thoughtful when he returns his attention to the melted eggs in his dinosaur oatmeal. You don’t even want to ask how they have that down here.

You’ve got more important things to think about, like making it through the Captain’s territory with Frisk with both your Souls intact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : None present.
> 
> Holy apostrophe dogs two chapters in a week, back to back no less? No telling how long this will last. I will unabashedly tell you that comments on this fic help it survive, interactions, everything. Thank you for reading this.


	15. Determination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

“headed somewhere?”

Damn. You were hoping to leave the house without Sans stopping you. Your Delta Rune tunic is back on, as is Frisk’s, and your bags are fully packed.

“Um, yes?” you say lamely.

Sans leans against the side of his home chewing something between his teeth, the sharp edge of a canine visible at the edge of his mouth. You hope Frisk can hear him at this distance, since there is no way they can read the tiny movements of his lips and transcribe them into words. He takes the thing from his mouth and throws it into the snow, a slight hissing sound following. Ah. Cigarette break.

“don’t know why you’re in such a hurry,” Sans says.

Does he sound...disappointed? “The sooner we get to the Royal Scientist the better, right?”

Sans shrugs and walks towards you. You’re pretty jealous of his ability to stand out here in just some frumpy clothes and not get cold. Though you’ve only been outside for a little while, you’re already excited that you get to move towards a place of the Underground called Hotland (seriously, who named these places?). You get the feeling staying out too long here is dangerous, a deep seated warning you don’t remember having yesterday wandering in the forest.

“the two of you are pretty _dead set_ on going there, aren’t ya? mind company?”

Frisk wrinkles their nose at what you think is a pun, though no one’s laughing. _I mean-_

“SANS! HAVE YOU RECALIBRATED YOUR PUZZLES YET THIS WEEK?” Papyrus rounds the corner after what you presume is a running lap around the entire town of Snowdin, though he had only left the breakfast table maybe a few minutes ago. He spots your backpacks and his shoulders droop. “HELLO, HU-I MEAN, HELLO, NEW FRIENDS. ARE YOU GOING SOMEWHERE? FRISK, WOULD YOU LIKE TO HELP ME RECALIBRATE MY PUZZLES? YOU DIDN’T EVEN DO ONE OF THEM YESTERDAY!”

Like a puppy bounding through the snow, Papyrus takes the last few steps towards your twin and bends down so his face is even with theirs. Frisk is smiling and signing quickly to Papyrus, teasing him that they were sure they were far too difficult for a simple human like them to complete.

Distracted as they are, Frisk and Papyrus get so wrapped up together they’re running around the yard in no time, chasing each other.

“not many people can keep up with my bro.”

Sans is standing close to you now, but not so close you could reach over and touch him, you notice. This hot and cold skeleton is definitely sending you mixed signals. He’s watching his brother and your twin interact with a fondness in his eye sockets you’re surprised you notice. It’s strange how expressive he is even without skin.

“Sans,” you say, then sigh. “I never thanked you guys for letting us stay over. That was really nice of you.” There, maybe an olive branch will help you get on your way. It’s not that you don’t trust Sans…

No that’s definitely it.

“my bro and i might not have hearts, but we aren’t that _heartless._ Can’t leave you two out in the snow to freeze.”

The way he says it is heavy, and you feel your Soul squeeze. What’s happening? Your head hurts all of the sudden.

And as quickly as he made it feel serious, even with a lame joke, the mood changes again. “‘sides, that lady would have my _tailbone_ if she knew i went back on my promise.”

Rubbing your temple to try to get rid of the insta-headache, you turn to him to ask, “You’ve mentioned that promise before.”

Sans freezes. “uh, i s’pose so.”

“What lady are you talking about? What kind of promise?”

“that’s a loaded question,” Sans says, and surprises you with a question of his own. “why can’t Frisk see or hear that well?”

You squint at him, not letting him get away with it that easily, but answering nonetheless. Frisk told Toriel when you were in the Ruins, which resulted in an afternoon of being held in her lap while she cried for you. You haven’t had time to put the band-aid back on the old wound, so it’s still fresh, and while never easy to talk about it’s easier get it over with.

The story told and over without looking at Sans once. If he doesn’t understand some of what you say, since you’re sure you’re using Surface slang, he doesn’t show it. You can tell his eye sockets are trained on you the whole time. It’s interesting Sans knows what Disneyland is, though, and you want to ask how he knows but he prods you to keep talking.

“Humans, especially kids, are just a bunch of assholes, really. This is the most I’ve seen Frisk interact with people without me since the accident. I don’t know why I told you that,” you say, crossing your arms and looking down at your feet, kicking snow around.

As you talk the two of you followed Papyrus and Frisk towards the edge of Snowdin closer to the Ruins, but you walked behind most of the buildings to avoid any other monsters overhearing.

“believe me, i get it,” Sans says. He waves to the Nice Cream Guy passing out treats to passing monsters. You don’t get how he makes money in this part of the Underground, but Sans explained he’s usually in Hotland. “paps is the most important person in the world to me. i might not like him hanging around humans, no offense, but this is the most fun he’s had in...a long time.”

“No offense?” You lift an eyebrow at him and he snickers. “Sure sounded like full offense intended, Sans.”

“eh, what can i say? i’d be _fibula_ -ing if i said i could ignore a lifetime of being told humans are evil. there’s certainly a _barrier_ between our races, after all.”

You know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but his jokes just makes your mouth twist in determination. “We’re going to fix it, you know.”

“you two must really want to go home, huh?”

His voice sounds far away and echoes in your head a little. You shake your head to make it stop, but it doesn’t. It’s almost like there's a window between you, or he’s inside of a car and you’re trying to make out what he’s yelling to you from the outside.

“Well, not the place we came from, no,” you say, back to rubbing your temples, “but I definitely want to get back to the Surface.”

The last thing you want to show him is weakness but you want to grab Frisk and tell them something’s wrong. They’re several yards ahead of you and they’re talking to one of the canines you recognize from Grillby’s. You feel like you should be more worried than you are. Strange. The only sounds that sound muffled are yours and Sans’s voices, everything else sounds normal.

“even after everything that happened to you up there?”

“Yes. I want Frisk and I to actually have a life. They have a robotics scholarship and…” your throat constricts and you stop, hands pressing against your chest.

The spot you know your Soul rests beneath is on _fire_. It’s all you can do to stand and breathe, doubled over.

“maybe it’s better to take what’s given you...hey, buddy, you ok?”

“I...I don’t know...my Soul…”

Last thing you see is a rush of white before you fall down.

* * *

 

**_Get up, wuss_ ** **.**

**_It’s just a little reverb._ **

* * *

Your eyes and mouth fly open, gasping for air like breaking the surface of water after staying under for too long. Three faces look down at you and back away as soon as you take your first gulp of oxygen. Frisk is holding your head in their lap, their hands on either side of your head.

Your head _hurts_. Your Soul hurts more. You’re sure you bit the inside of your cheek or tongue because of the metallic taste of blood in your mouth.

There are images in your head overlapping each other. You can’t tell if they’re dreams or memories, but they feel too real to be anything but memories. You can taste a quiche you know you didn’t eat last night. Deja vu. Vertigo.

Leaning over you, their eyes squinted a little, Frisk gently rubs your face with their thumbs. _“Hey. Slow breaths. You had a seizure or something.”_

Frisk’s voice echoes. It...echoes? What?

“How can I hear you without all the...magic?” you rasp out.

The reaction is instant. Frisk goes white as a sheet, their eyes going wide. “ _You can hear me, too?!”_

“Yeah.” You chew carefully on your next words, pushing yourself up off the ground. Well, you support yourself on your elbows and twist to glare at them. “What. The. Fuck.”

“YOU FELL DOWN, HUMAN! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” Papyrus is lowering his voice a little, but it’s still so loud. The sudden noise spikes the pressure in your head.

No. You are _not_ alright. You can _remember dying from hypothermia_ and you can see things you don’t think you should be able to. Darkness. A place devoid of light, or sound, or feeling. There’s a corner of your mind you shove that to. Definitely too much to handle right now.

You are undoubtedly the furthest from alright you can remember being since running off into the Ruins by yourself for the first time. But how do you fucking tell them you’re seeing things that aren’t there without sounding insane. Maybe you are insane?

“Yeah, Papyrus, I’ll be okay,” you manage to say.

No use freaking out the already excitable skeleton. Maybe you can get Frisk alone, maybe they can tell you if you just hit your head that hard?

“My Soul…” you say, pressing your fist into your sternum. You can’t tell if you’re imagining it or not but it feels like it’s pushing right back to you, and beating in time to your heart.

“c’mon,” Sans says, stepping closer to you again. “let’s get you back home.”

Are those beads of blue sweat on his forehead? Huh. Papyrus helps you to stand on one side, Frisk on your other, and you close your eyes to fight a wave of nausea. Eyes still closed, you miss the vehement look Frisk and Sans share. When it’s apparent you’re not going far or fast on your own two feet, Papyrus scoops you up and starts running back to the skeleton brother’s house.

As you continue to privately freak out at the way it’s familiar for him to hold you like this, Frisk and Sans discreetly shortcut forward to meet you two, and to have a discussion of their own.

A discussion that is long overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Timeline black magic fuckery
> 
> Who am I? I don't know this person who has updated three times in three days. Wow! I promise I PROMISE the angst will go away soon. But, I decided some of this plot shit should happen a little sooner. Let me know if there's anything that is hard to follow so it can be clarified in the next few chapters!
> 
> PLEASE YELL THINGS AT ME BELOW K THX


	16. ERROR: 409

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh boy oh boy oh boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).
> 
> Buckle the fuckle up.

There’s a mug of golden flower tea in your hands and a blanket over your shoulders before anyone says another word. You’re glad for something to keep your hands occupied. Around you, the two monsters and your twin exchange a myriad of glances, changing depending on who is sharing them, but you’re oblivious to it all.

Rubbing your hand carefully over your sternum, the spot sore and the skin bruised a purple darker than your robes, you take another long drink from your mug. Eight pieces of monster candy later and you feel more yourself. Papyrus even drew you into an encounter so you and he could more accurately check your Soul’s status, and though it won’t stop vibrating like an alarm clock beneath your skin, you’re starting to get used to it.

You find your voice after another minute or two. “Say it again.”

Frisk sighs. An audible sigh. It’s not out of the ordinary. Even mute, they sigh and laugh and do make noise. Your head snaps up, tense and ready to lash out even at the small show of annoyance. Frisk holds their hands up in surrender.

“Sorry. It’s hard to keep this up.”

It’s been the better part of a decade since you’ve heard their voice. Of course, it’s different. They’re older. And as much as they prefer a neutral pronoun, something you have never questioned out of respect for their own choices regarding their body, you can’t miss the way their voice is so much deeper than you remember. It makes you think of your dad’s.

No, there have been enough tears the last few months to last a lifetime. Enough of that.

“You are remembering things that did and didn’t actually happen,” Frisk repeats. “Multiverse theory? Something this morning triggered your awareness of the overlap.”

You can’t help but snort under your breath. “I know the multiverse theory as well as you do, Frisk. And a little quantum theory. You listened to those podcasts and lectures really loudly in our room on the Surface.”

Frisk runs their hands through their hair and winces when their fingers find a knot. “Yeah. Guess so. So, uh, let’s start with something easy, then. What do you remember?”

“Easy? How the hell is that an easy question?”

You feel like your anger is muted somehow. With a scowl, you narrow your eyes to check your Soul and realize the tea is acting as a calming agent. When you shoot a glare towards Sans, he has the decency to look a little sheepish before he shrugs. 

“Fine. Whatever.” You lift the mug to your lips to take a sip but stop before you do, remembering the magical effect at the last second. Setting it on the coffee table in front of you, you decide to fold your hands in your lap instead. “Uh, okay. I’ll start with this morning? Whatever just happened. When I was talking to Sans I felt like my head was underwater, and my mouth was on autopilot. I don’t know how to explain it except it felt like I had already said what I was saying to him”

Sans blinks slowly as you talk, the only indication that he’s alive. Sitting cross legged on the floor beneath the front window, he’s the furthest from you in the room. That actually makes you feel more comfortable and confident talking about this.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” you say, looking down at your hands. You run your thumb over a cut on one of your fingers, an old scar from a fistfight defending Frisk years ago that healed in a crescent moon shape. “The multiverse is a  _ theory _ , Frisk. A theory!”

Silence meets your exclamation. Of everyone, you’re surprised Papyrus is so quiet. He’s standing at the end of the couch you’re sitting on, his eyes trained on the front door. He looks more Royal Guard-like than any other time you’ve seen him. His armor is polished and sleek, the metal making quiet shushing noises as he moves from foot to foot.

“and if the multiverse exists, that means there are universes where the theory is true and where there isn’t a theory at all.”

You glare at Sans but can’t think of a good counter before he continues.

“you’re not goin’ crazy, ________. you’ve just never remembered this before.”

The sound of his voice saying your name sends a weird shiver down your spine. You can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing, since everything is so topsy turvy. Mouth dry, you wish you had some normal water to drink. Instead you settle on the tea. Maybe you do need calming before asking your next question.

“Before?”

Now you catch the way everyone else looks at each other. Papyrus remains silent, but does sit down on the couch armrest, his long arm enough to reach over to you to place a hand on your shoulder. You lean into it subconsciously. He’s the only one you trusted to check your Soul earlier, a feeling you can’t explain, but it’s starting to make more sense the longer you believe the fever dream that is this conversation. Out of everyone present he’s the one that hasn’t directly threatened or lied to you. Yet.

“we haven’t had this conversation before, by the way,” Sans says. “this is all new. just wanna establish that. you have come through that door in the ruins ten times now. each time starts a little differently.”

“Are you always there?” you ask, cutting him off.

Sans nods. “this is the first time you’ve come out with the delta rune, though.”

“Is this why I felt like I knew you guys?” you ask. “Sorry, I keep stopping you.”

“nah, you’re good. ask questions. didn’t know you felt like you knew us but you’ve trusted us faster each time.”

“IF IT’S ANY CONSOLATION, YOU DID FIGURE OUT MY PUZZLES VERY WELL THE FIRST COUPLE OF TIMES.” Papyrus’s voice startles you, though it’s more of an inside voice right now. When you look over at him, the serious look he’d used on the door is a much friendlier smile. “YOU ARE VERY SMART HUMANS.”

A lump tries to rise in your throat. No! No crying! There’s time for that later.

“So you all knew, and went along with it? I still don’t understand how this is even happening.”

Papyrus is still smiling but it almost looks sad. “SANS SAID THE BEST THING TO DO WOULD BE TO GO ALONG WITH IT AND DO OUR BEST.”

“Paps.” Frisk’s voice still weirds you out on so many levels. Papyrus looks over at them and there’s a tiny grimace of apology on his skeletal face before Frisk continues “Yes. We’ve known and gone along with it. And, there’s not really an explanation for how it happens, except that it always starts with you.”

Does their voice sound bitter? You have no practice deciphering their moods from that, but their arms are folded and they’ve let their hair fall over their eyes, a definite sign of being annoyed or angry. 

“Me? How can it be me if I don’t even know I’m doing it?”

“________,” Sans says, “what do you remember?”

You sigh and try to take this seriously though you’re still having trouble wrapping your head around it. “Where should I start?”

Frisk sits on the floor near Sans, cross-legged as well, and reverts to sign language.  _ From the day we fell. _

So, you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Timeline black magic fuckery
> 
> I am bouncing up and down with excitement to post this one because I was Hulk smashed upside the head with some inspiration. The chapters are flowing from me. There will prob be a combo breaker tomorrow but I'm doing my best to keep going. Please let me know what you think below!


	17. STATUS: 202

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).
> 
> [HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY FRIEND](https://rainbowsinqueen.tumblr.com/) I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T GIVE UP ON THIS STORY!

“...and she left without looking back. We didn’t know what to expect so we grabbed a couple of the things from our month there and, you know, left.”

Your voice is sore after going through everything you could remember since finding Frisk at the lip of the cavernous opening at far end of the Ruins. It feels like so long ago, and your mind bitterly tries to grasp onto the idea that your distorted sense of time has to do with these saves and loads, as the others are calling it. Out of reflex you pause to drink, plain water now, and look to Frisk to see if they have anything to add you might have missed. There were a few small details they added about the Ruins from their solo walks.

“Toriel confronted us three times. The third time is the one she let us pass and move on through the door.”

Though you’re not sure you want to know the answer, you ask, “What happened the first two times?”

Frisk sighs and runs their hand through their hair. By now it’s sticking up everywhere.

“The first two times, you got very close to dying. Your Soul took a lot of damage. I know you didn’t die but I also know halfway through the battle you would panic and I would wake up in front of the house with you and Napstablook again.”

The same action you use to check your Soul you use now, lifting one of your hands to your chest to ‘feel’ your Soul underneath. “I...I sort of remember that, waking up in front of the house. And some of what Toriel said felt familiar. What changed, what did we do differently?”

_ We put the Delta robes on. _ Frisk goes back to sign language and shakes their head. “Sorry. Not used to talking.”

“Yeah, about that-” you say, a sharp edge to your tone.

_ I don’t  _ **_like_ ** _ talking _ , _______.

You flinch as if they’d reached over to strike you. There’s no way they would, but the bite in their movements is immediate and unwelcome. It’s not an answer, not really. You drop it, though, understanding there’s no way you’re going to get more out of them like this.

You admit privately to yourself that the worst part of this reveal so far isn’t the knowledge you’ve been apparently playing with time without realizing. It’s the way Frisk looks at you. Talks or signs at you. The next breath you take shudders a little on the way in.

“Fine.” That sounded harsher than you meant, but you don’t apologize to them. You feel like you’re allowed a bit of frustration over this. “The Delta robes. What about those?”

“THE DELTA RUNE IS VERY POWERFUL,” Papyrus says, piping up for the first time in a while. He’s still sitting the closest to you. Unraveling his red scarf from his neck, he lays it flat on the coffee table in the middle of everyone, pointing to the sigil you hadn’t noticed before. “CLOTHING WITH THE RUNE PICKS UP SPECIAL PROPERTIES DEPENDING ON WHO MAKES IT. THE THREE TRIANGLES ON THE BOTTOM REPRESENT THE THREE THINGS THAT MAKE UP MONSTERS: HOPE, COMPASSION, AND LOVE. THE SUN ON THE TOP REPRESENTS MERCY AND THE TWO WINGS ARE FOR JUSTICE.”

“I don’t remember that from Toriel’s books,” you say, your hand coming over to touch the scarf as well. Papyrus lifts it so you can hold it in your lap. It’s well knit, the fabric heavy and smooth in your hands. You can see why he never wants to take it off.

“MOST OF THE BOOKS WERE DAMAGED WHEN MONSTERS WERE TRAPPED, AT LEAST THAT’S WHAT SANS AND ALPHYS TOLD ME.”

Sans pipes up, a soft and indulgent smile on his face when he looks at his brother. “s’right, bro. lotsa the books monsters recorded our history on weren’t built to last. the library we built to hold the scrolls fell deep into the earth in a huge cave in.”

“That’s awful,” you say, wondering at how much knowledge was probably lost forever. “There’s nothing on the Surface about monsters or any of this stuff.”

Papyrus looks introspective, gently taking his scarf back from you and twining it artfully around his neck. The end flutters in a nonexistent wind before settling against his armor. “IT IS SAD, BUT WE ARE LUCKY TO HAVE BOSS MONSTERS OLD ENOUGH TO REMEMBER LOTS OF OUR HISTORY. WHY, GERSON WAS JUST TELLING ME THE OTHER DAY-”

“bro,” Sans interrupts. His tone is calm but pointed.

“SORRY. A STORY FOR ANOTHER TIME.” Papyrus stands suddenly, his movements slightly agitated. “BROTHER, DO YOU NEED ME? I WOULD LIKE TO PATROL IN CASE UNDYNE STOPS BY. I DO NOT WANT HER TO KNOW ANYTHING IS AMISS YET.”

Papyrus barely waits for Sans to nod before he’s standing up. Out of the corner of your eye you see Frisk move to stand as well.

_ “Wait up, Paps!” _ Frisk signs.

Though the skeleton wasn’t looking at your twin, you can hear how they shouted to everyone in the room the same way you hear their voice in an encounter. Now that you’ve heard their physical voice, you can hear traces of that in the one they use to speak in their mind. You honestly don’t care what they use to communicate, you never have, you’ve always understood they used sign language. But, in your irritation, you can’t help but want them to just pick one method. Your head spins from reading their signs, listening to that mind voice, and hearing them speak for the first time in forever.

Papyrus holds the door open for Frisk so they can slip out into the snow, too, grabbing a jacket off the table as they go.

Looking at the spot the jacket was a moment before, you see Sans glaring at the door. It lacks real anger, so you figure Frisk must have just stolen one of his jackets.

“Wait,” you say, your voice filling the silence, “does Undyne know about this, too? This...time stuff?”

“nah. Undyne still wants to  _ skewer _ any human that comes down here, that’s why paps is worried. seems only we three, and now you, know about it.” Sans pushes himself off the floor and shuffles to the other end of the couch. “took me a long time to realise paps was going through this too. the feeling that things have repeated themselves.”

Both of you fall silent again. There’s an awkward tension in the air that wasn’t the same with Frisk and Papyrus in the room. You push away the feeling, deciding to puzzle that out later.

“Sans,” you say, grabbing his attention. “How long has this been going on, really? You said I’ve been through that door ten times but I can’t stop thinking there’s more.”

A low rumbling chuckle bubbles up out of Sans as he stares at you. You can see the way his hands are shaking when he drags them down his face. “buddy, you have  _ no _ fucking clue how loaded of a question that is.”

You can’t help it. You know he isn’t laughing  _ at _ you necessarily but the sound of laughter sets your anxiety on high. Anger and frustration bubble up inside you and you take the pillow in your lap and toss it haphazardly at him.

It skips off the smooth top of his skull, sailing across the room to whap into the counter by the front door. 

Sans stops laughing at the look on your face and stares at the pillow you threw, and the little rock you knocked off the counter. His eye sockets are wide but the eye lights are still there, which you count as a good sign. Probably not a good idea to throw projectiles at a monster who, from what you could gather, is one of the only ones who can help you unravel this mess.

“Fuck, if there’s more to tell me,” you say, balling your hands into fists hard enough to dig your fingernails into your palms, “then just  _ tell _ me? Okay? God this is all just confusing and frustrating and ever since we fell down here, as soon as I think I know what’s going on or what to do, everything just gets all screwed up again and-”

Two boney hands grip your upper arms firmly, but not hard enough to hurt.

“hey. hey, breathe.”

His hands are  _ very  _ warm through your sleeves. When you look up, his skull is a lot closer to you than it’s been before. It’s close enough that you can make out little divots and the way some parts are ivory and others are stark white, and the parts below his eye sockets had an almost purple shine. You find it hard to focus on anything but him right now, the way his collar bones rise and fall with exaggeratedly slow breaths. Slowly, you match his pace.

He speaks again, but lets go of your arms once you were breathing normally again. The moment he does you feel like you can think clearly again. “laughing was a jerk move. shouldn’ta done that. m’sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” you mutter, rubbing your arms where he touched you. “But seriously...what the fuck is going on?”

Sans, still kneeling on the floor in front of you, lets his smile slip a bit, the corners dragging down so his mouth doesn't appear as wide. The move looks like a statue deteriorating in fast-motion before your eyes, a stoic facade melting away.

For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the  _ real _ Sans.

“this will take awhile,” he says, pushing himself to stand. Holding out his hand, he jerks his head towards the door. “c’mon.”

“Do I need a coat?” you ask.

A flash of a smile perks up Sans’s face. “nah. i know a shortcut.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Timeline black magic fuckery
> 
> C-c-c- _COMBO BREAKER_
> 
> Hi. How ya been? Miss me? I missed me, too. I got dragged into Mobfell hell so that's a thing now, daily updates. This story will still get my time and attention. You could even say I am **d e t e r m i n e d** to keep going.
> 
> You guys have any theories so far? I LOVE to hear what your brains are cooking up, no matter how big or small :)


	18. STATUS: 226 IM USED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going digging for answers can produce unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

The room Sans brings you to reminds you of doctor’s appointments and the nurse’s office at your high school. Well, it would, if it weren’t so cluttered.

And if there wasn’t a huge tarp-covered object in the corner.

“Where are we?” you ask, getting your bearings after the ride through Sans’s shortcut.

“underground.”

He catches what he said a moment too late, because you immediately counter, “Well, duh.”

Sans rubs the back of his neck and huffs a laugh. “heh, whoops. well, we’re further underground, under the house actually.”

You notice a light blue dusting of color under his eye sockets before he turns and grabs a lab coat from a hook nearby. The shade is almost the same as the color you noticed in his eye, and the color of the blue bones Papyrus used during your encounter yesterday.

“What’s that blue on your face?” you ask. “Are you okay?”

“wha-? oh, uh…” The blue spreads further from his cheeks, blooming across the little upside-down heart shape of his nasal cavity and working its way up his forehead.

It hits you like a brick, and the words burst from you in surprise. “You’re blushing!”

“shaddup,” Sans mutters, trying to lift up the collar on his lab coat to cover his cheeks but the color is starting to make a glow come off his skull.

You’re sure if you weren’t already high strung from stress of the last few hours, and honestly months, you would have kept teasing him about it. He doesn’t act genuinely upset over it but you can tell he wants you to drop it. And, honestly, you do, too. You’re down here for answers, not to tease a blushing skeleton.

Man. That’s a sentence you never thought you’d think to yourself.

“c’mere, you’re gonna need this.”

Sans holds out another lab coat, and you take it to throw on over your tunic. The polyester fabric running over the velvet of the rune tunic sends shocks of static electricity over your body, stinging you a little and lifting the hairs that came loose from your ponytail. Sans looks up from a journal he was reading to make sure you had the coat on.

“hey, buddy, i know today has been stressful but i didn’t know you found it so  _ shocking _ .” The lights in his eye sockets are bright, his face crinkled in an impish smile. “ _ hairs _ no reason to get worked  _ up _ over it.”

“You’re awful, did you know that?” you say, trying to keep your grumpy tone of voice and failing. You smooth some of your hair out, the static shocking you for your efforts. “So, what were you gonna show me?”

“not really showin’ ya anything, actually. need to explain some stuff first.”

He pauses and looks you over, the smile faded from his face again. As much as the smile suits him, the way he’s not masking his emotions makes you feel ten times more comfortable alone with him. He still engaged you in an encounter right away and no matter what they say, you know you’ve only technically known him for a couple days.

You hold out your arms as if to say  _ go ahead _ before he takes a breath and continues. 

One of his hands rests on top of a considerable stack of journals that grows from the floor. There are dozens packed into a bookshelf a few paces away, dust covering the ones on the bottom shelves. He drums his fingers on them before launching into his explanation.

“a...shit, how do i start this?”

“Once upon a time?” you say, unable to stop the words from leaving your mouth.

Sans looks at you with a deadpan, and very unamused, look. “heh. time jokes, eh? no. whatever. a long time ago, years ago, there was an anomaly in the underground. a human kid. no one but me and a scientist no one remembers knew about them. the scientist’s name was doctor w.d. gaster.

“at first i just had a funny feeling whenever i saw the anomaly, like i’d met them before but couldn’t put a name to the face. then, one morning i woke up, and i’m here in snowdin with papyrus with no memory of how we got here, and barely a memory of doctor gaster. but that seemed like more’n anyone else had. the only evidence i had of him existing was the broken machine in my living room with a pile of notebooks written in first tongue.”

Sans pauses. “you know what that is, right?”

You blink, realizing he’s asking you a question, and nod. “Yeah, the language of monsters and magic. I’ve seen some of it. It looks like a font we have on computers called...um, wingdings?”

Sans’s fingers scrape on the top of the notebook as he clenches his hand into a fist. The lights in his eye sockets get brighter as the sockets widen. His mouth is slack, and the information hits you.

“Hey! W.D. Gaster? Was his name Wingdings?” You feel like you’re rambling a lot today, but Sans doesn’t stop you when you continue. “And...Sans, like - holy  _ shit _ your name is Comic Sans! And when Frisk and I - fuck - when we fought Papyrus we, like, saw his voice? Like fonts! Your names are the same as fonts!”

“exactly,” Sans says, picking up the top journal to flip open. “all skeleton monsters have a ‘font’. we don’t have lips or other physical things to make our voices like some monsters do, and without a font, you wouldn’t understand a word i’m sayin’.”

His fingers make a pulling down motion, like he’s pulling the cord on a lamp, and a pen appears out of thin air as he does. He uses it to start scribbling down a note in what looked like a page over halfway through the notebook. 

“you’ve never realized that before,” he mutters under his breath.

“Uh, do those have notes about  _ me _ in them?”

Sans has the decency to blush a little when he says, “yeah. most of these, anyway.” He gestures to the pile on the floor. “the ones over there were gaster’s.”

You stare at the pile for a moment, dumbstruck. That seemed like a lot of notes for only, what did they say, ten jumps?

“What do you call it?” you ask in the silence.

“what do i call what?”

“When...when the time thing happens, when I do,” you wave your hands around in front of you, “the time thingy.”

Sans snorts a laugh. He puts the journal back on the pile. “not that, that’s for sure. we call ‘em loads. or resets.”

You can feel your face go blank, but you don’t fight the slight scowl forming in your eyebrows and lips. “Are you fucking kidding me? Like a video game?”

With a shrug, Sans says, “somethin’ like that, yeah.”

“Christ, I want to say this sounds insane but it makes a weird sort of sense. Everything down here is so crazy.” You pause to think for a second. “I mean, when I’m in an encounter, I can see some sort of display with options that reminds me of old school games. So if they’re loads and resets, that means someone is saving the game!”

Sans winces at the word game and you feel bad immediately.

Wrapping your hands around yourself in a hug, you bite your lip then say, “Oh, god, sorry, that sounds awful when you put it that way.”

“s’fine, s’true.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over you, but now that you’re getting a taste for what’s happening, you’re like a dog with a bone. “All these journals, then. There are  _ way  _ too many for just the last couple times I’ve been here, right? Were there others like me? Toriel said something about other children that came through the Ruins and never came back.”

“no. not all of them. i wasn’t around when most of the other humans came through but the notes we have about them are nothing like this.” Sans pauses and scratches the back of his neck again, a nervous tic you’re starting to associate with him about to reveal something to you that he seems reluctant to. “but there is one other person like you, and  _ they _ ’re the one in all of those..”

Your eyes follow his hand as he points to the packed shelf. Furrowing your brows at his odd tone of voice, you stare at him until it hits you.

One other person like you.

Frisk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Mentions of resets and how Sans remembers them
> 
> Hey! You all are valid and beautiful. I'm still getting random bursts of energy for this story, and the chapters will continue to be shorter so that there can be more of them! I'm still working on a daily Mobfell fic and am cooking up an Underswap story for this summer so STAY TUNED!


	19. A (Different) Particularly Long Elevator Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys isn't the only one with a True Lab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

Sans starts to walk towards another door in the room by the bookshelf, jerking his head so you follow him. You can’t help the feeling you’re jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The door turns out to be the sliding door of an elevator, though it looks unlike many of the others you’ve seen before. For one, there are levers instead of just buttons on the console, but only a handful of them. Sans holds his arm out for you so the door doesn’t close on you when you step in after him. Though the sound is muffled, you can hear gears whirring as the door shuts behind you.

“So,” you say, unsure how to start this conversation. It’s a feeling you’re having frequently, but you push past it. Answers are more important right now. “Frisk?”

Sans sighs a little and nods. His eyes are closed as he leans back against the wall of the elevator. It’s not moving very fast from what you can tell, and the ride is very gentle. You expect to feel your ears pop as you go down, sort of like they do when you go up really fast or ride in an airplane, but that doesn’t happen. You wait another thirty seconds or so for him to answer you before speaking again.

“What the fuck kind of magic do we have, Sans?”

“‘m not the best to tell you about how human magic works. not nearly old enough to know the details a’that.” He lifts one eye socket in a lazy look, a hint of a joke playing at the edges of his bony lips. “an’ no i’m not telling you how old i am.”

His mouth is the most ‘closed’ you’ve seen it, with most of his teeth hidden behind that strange material that makes up his skull. You find yourself wondering if it’s soft like your skin.

You shake your head to physically get rid of  _ that _ line of thought. Definitely not the time or place.

“Well you can’t be nearly as old as Toriel or Asgore,” you say, picking up the thread of conversation. “Toriel told us she’s been alive since before the Barrier existed.”

“cause the king and former queen are boss monsters.”

“What?”

The elevator stops with a slow bounce and ping. Sans flips another lever that resembles a light switch and the door slides open. This room looks remarkably similar to the one above, except it’s much larger, and filled with even more bookcases stuffed full of notebooks, papers, and delicate looking equipment that you can’t tell if it’s medical or not. So many notebooks. Easily hundreds of them, more than you want to think about.

How long had this been going on?

“boss monsters basically live forever,” Sans explains as he guides you through the room. His hands in his pockets, he looks more relaxed, like he’s in his element. “there aren’t many here in the underground anymore, but i’m pretty sure there are still a few up top.”

This is news to you. “There are still monsters up there?”

Sans looks over his shoulder to you, most of his grin back in place. “ever heard of the loch ness  _ monster _ ?”

That makes you stop in the middle of the lab, since that is obvious that’s where you are, your eyes nearly bugging out of your head. You even overlook the pun but Sans doesn’t seem surprised by that. “Nessie is real? Nessie is a monster?”

“yep,” Sans says, reaching a workbench with a stone tabletop that feels very cold to the touch. It reminds you of high school chemistry classes. “nessie. leviathan, or the kraken. dunno what they go by these days. s’pretty hard to force a gigantic underwater monster underneath a mountain halfway ‘cross the planet, y’know?”

“Damn,” you whisper as you sit down on a bench across from Sans.

Sans pulls out one of the notebooks he snuck from the upstairs room and studies it for a minute, flipping pages and marking them with little post-it like tags. You sit and think about what other ‘mythical’ creatures could be explained the same way.

“The Minotaur?”

He doesn’t look up from his work. “yep.”

“Um...Bigfoot?”

“nah, we have no idea who that is.”

“Damn, I was kind of hoping for that one.”

Sans chuckles at that one and keeps marking pages, almost as though you aren’t in the room with him. You wonder how much time he’s spent alone down here. The idea makes your Soul feel heavy, like one of the skeleton brothers is using gravity magic on you.

“You didn’t really answer my question though.”

“which one?”

His reply takes you aback for a second before yeah, you realize he’s avoided a few. “Frisk? Our magic? I know you said you aren’t ‘old enough’ or whatever to be able to tell me much but you obviously know something.”

That makes Sans pause in his work and look up at you. He folds his boney hands on top of the notebook, effectively blocking most of the text from your view with his plated palms.

“s’lot of info you’re asking for in a short amount of time, buddy.”

“I thought time was on our side,” you quip back at him. You can’t help the sarcasm, you’re more than a little frustrated and want to keep moving forward. 

Sans snorts. “something like that. fine, i’ll explain what i can.” He rips a piece of paper out of the back of the notebook, a blank one, and offers you a pencil he pulls out of thin air. “write down questions you’ve got, ‘cause once i get started it’s best i don’t get off track. and i don’t want to have to explain this more’n once if possible.”

“You’d be a shit teacher,” you grumble, getting the pencil and paper in a spot where it will be easier to take notes quickly.

“never wanted to be,” he says. His voice is pretty light given the topic you’re asking about, so his voice doesn't have any heat when he says, “so shaddup and pay attention.”

You make a show of writing your name on top of the paper but stop before you put the date. You have no clue what it is, since your cell phone date can’t be trusted. A lot of the data is corrupted down here, after you had to manually reset some stuff on it. The calendar app glitched and went forward three years in the future to a month you are positive is incorrect.

Sans notices your hesitation, and starts to talk to catch your attention.

“y’know you’re somehow controlling time down here and at one point, so did frisk. they did for a very, very, very long time. and, i say time loosely since each timeline only lasted a couple weeks at most s’far as i can tell. seems like you didn’t know about this before so i figure neither of you did any of this outside the underground, yeah?”

You nod, taking notes of what he’s saying so you can look back over them later. You can already tell you’re going to need more than one sheet of paper.

Sans must notice, too, since he lifts a crisp notebook from a box a few yards away from him and brings it over with blue magic before continuing.

“it’s obvious the two a’you are mages, though,” he says. “and we have no idea what makes a human be able to harness their magic voluntarily or not, since from what our research shows you hold a hell of a lot in your souls. as much magic as what makes up a monster body.”

All of this is news to you, but this fact in particular is something you make a note to have him expand on, or to look into yourself. What makes a mage?

“it’s likely why most monsters never noticed you, and frisk all the times before you, are humans. not one of us ‘cept for the boss monsters who remember humans and those of us studying you.  for all purposes you’ve got enough magic to be one of us. and jus’ like we do you seem to have a sort of affinity with what kind of magic you can do, though yours always has a stronger color affiliation. all monsters have white souls and humans come in eight main colors. only our bullets take on other colors.”

“Bullets?” you can’t help but interrupt. Your hand is getting a little cramped from trying to keep up.

“the magic attacks you can see,” Sans replies, and keeps going as if you didn’t interrupt, definitely hitting his stride. His eyes are half closed again, but you’re not worried he’s about to fall asleep. It looks more like he’s concentrating on something in the middle distance like you do when you’re thinking hard. “they can be different colors, too. green’s for healing. cyan will only hurt you if you’re movin’ an’ orange does the opposite.”

You think on the colors you can see when you and Frisk are in an encounter. “And what about purple, or red?”

“here, lemme just show you this.”

Another object floats towards you coated in dark blue magic originating from Sans’s palm. It’s an older book with cartoon-shaped hearts on the front surrounding the Delta Rune again, and bound in what you guess is leather. You skim the introduction but skip to a section on Soul traits per Sans’s instruction. As interested as you are in the other things, just like when you would skim things about your Hogwart’s House or star sign, your eyes search out the things that have to do with you and Frisk.

Red. Determination. Exact affinity unknown, but it’s rare as hell if these numbers are anything to go by. You’re not sure where the information came from for this book or how old it is. It cites that the humans with this were always super powerful, as powerful as they were rare. The lack of solid information makes a cold stone form in the pit of your stomach. You flip the pages to yours since they’re in rainbow order.

Purple. Perseverance. Yeah. You can see that as a main Soul trait over the others you noticed. You’ve never been one to give up once you make up your mind, but you do sometimes need Frisk to make the decision first. The  _ determination _ first. Somehow you know that even Sans wouldn’t care for that pun too much.

The book explained that each human can have multiple traits but one always outweighs the others. It bothers you a little that a person can be whittled down to one trait, but you don’t know enough about the science behind this to make a judgement.

But, in the notes for all the colors, you don’t see anything about time magic. Gravity, healing, water or air manipulation, earth affinities like gardening or manipulation, fire, empathy, premonitions...that last was the closest you could see belonging in a ‘time’ category but that seemed to be connected with Patience, not perseverance. 

There were even allusions to alternate colors, ones that lie between the main eight traits, some of them sounding not so nice like ‘Pride’ between Justice and Bravery, and then ‘Sloth’ next to Patience and Integrity. Most of the seven deadly sins are there. So, the time spent in a stuffy Catholic school is kind of paying off. In a land full of monsters that you’re pretty sure the Bible says some nasty things about? Whatever. Not the most important thing right now.

As you read, Sans had stood and started poking around the lab. You keep glancing up at him, amazed at how different being around the skeleton feels now that whatever is going on is seemingly out in the open. He moves around like he’s comfortable here and that makes you feel more comfortable here. Watching him as you are, a thought hits you, and that cold feeling returns to your stomach.

You need him in order to succeed. Call it your multi-layered timeline intuition talking but this lab, if nothing else, proves you need him. Hell, he remembers the resets and loads better than you do and you’re the one making them happen! And, he wouldn’t help you if he didn’t think the same. How easy would it have been for him or even Papyrus to take yours or Frisk’s Souls already and take them to Asgore? They must believe there’s another way, at least a little bit…

With a sigh, you sit clenching and unclenching your fists, gearing yourself up for what’s next.

Time to (maybe?) change the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : None, my darlings! Just...maybe some feels ;)
> 
> HELLO HI THERE HOW IS IT GOING. Hmmmmm Reader....you feel..............something.........when looking at the bone boy.......hmmmmmmmmmmmmm


	20. No Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

“Hey, Sans?”

“‘sup, buddy?” he replies without turning around. 

He’s bent down to rifle through the bottom shelf of one of the older looking bookcases. Glass tinkles quietly as he pushes a few empty beakers to the side. The fact he doesn’t turn to look at you makes you hope he’s started to trust you a little, but the practical part of your brain warns you that he can take care of himself if he really is still worried about you hurting him or his brother. Is that a memory warning you about that? One of those timeline things? Or your own instinct? You choose the latter.

You mark your place in the book with the loose leaf of notes from your talk with Sans, and walk over to him, careful to make enough noise not to startle him. He stands as you get closer. There’s a pair of goggles loosely resting on his forehead that weren’t there a minute ago. Like this, he reminds you of just another classmate in one of your college-prep biology courses. It softens his skeletal appearance enough for you to feel...something? Something you try to ignore.

“I’m sorry,” you say, hands in the pockets of your borrowed lab coat. 

Standing like you are, Sans’s eye sockets are about level with yours, so you can see the way they widen and narrow slightly. His head tilts a little to the side as he leans one of his arm on a table nearby, regarding you closely. It’s so intriguing how his body is built vastly differently than yours but still uses the same sorts of facial expressions and body language.

“for…?”

“This,” you say. One of your hands leaves the comfort of its pocket to gesture to the room at large. “All of this. Humans have caused so much shit for monsters and it seems like...well, Frisk and I haven’t made it any easier. With the time bullshit, or whatever it is. I want to change that.”

Sans stands and stares at you for a moment or two, blinking once. He clears his throat a bit before speaking. 

“_______. heh. thanks.” God, he looks as awkward as you feel right now, but you feel better getting that off your chest. Sans continues. “but...you know what the king wants to do to ya, right? how he plans to break the barrier?”

You nod sharply. “Yeah. I, uh, remember the last reset thing better than the other ones. I just kind of feel fuzzy and heavy when I think of other timelines. But I remember that he wants to take another human Soul to add to the others he’s - um - collected? Convenient there’s two more down here, yeah?”

Sans stares at you, unspeaking, as you ramble. 

“Funny that my trait is perseverance, since I really want to see this through the end and all. No matter the consequence. Ha - ahem - yeah, I just…” you look down at your feet, the scrubby toes of your shoes looking rough against the clean tile floor beneath them. Should really get new ones. “You said you’ve tried other ways to get out.”

It’s not a question, but you still want him to answer. Your mind is a mess right now, trying to sift through feelings and thoughts you can’t be sure are from yesterday or the other timeline’s yesterday or something that maybe hasn’t happened yet. This line of thinking makes you so sick to your stomach but that won’t stop you now.

You remember what Toriel said about others before you. And, by process of elimination, you figure those others didn’t make it. Some of the books explained human Souls can last longer outside of their physical bodies than monster’s could, so if your hunch is correct, and you hope it is...then you have to ask.

“yes,” Sans says when he realizes you’re waiting for him to speak. “But-”

“Have you ever had real humans to test that on, though?”

Sans stares at you warily. “no. not really.”

“So you have had Souls to practice on, then?”

“how do you know that?”

From the tone of his voice you can tell his question has to do with the timelines, so you’re quick to try and explain that, “I sort of guessed that one. No weird time stuff, no fuzzy memories. Toriel mentioned others before us that never came back to visit with her and, well, she could guess what happened to them and I can, too. She didn’t have to outright say that Asgore killed them.” Sans winces but doesn’t deny it. You keep going as if it doesn’t bother you. “Plus that book outright says human Souls don’t need human bodies necessarily to be sustained.”

Sans takes you in slowly, a wary swipe up and down of his eye lights, and you realize he’s glancing at your Soul. It doesn’t feel any different in your chest but there’s a weird notion that you can’t place in the back of your head that tells you exactly what he’s doing.

“you sure know a lot for a human who hasn’t been here long,” he says, tone almost accusatory. “what exactly did you do on the surface? you told me how the two of you fell, and i know about your parents, but...you are real quick to accept some things and slow on the uptake on others. never know what to expect outta ya.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you can’t help but self-consciously ask.

“not sure,” he says. Even though it’s a half-assed answer, you can hear the truth in it.

“Right. Well, uh, Frisk and I were high school students. We just finished our junior year, and after one more year of school we go to college.”

“we have school down here, too,” he cuts you off. “seems the same, s’far as i can tell.”

“Really? Did you go to college, then?”

“sidetracked, buddy,” Sans says.

“Avoiding the question much?”

“buddy.” Sans’s voice is low, calming and direct as he reaches over without touching you. “let’s...you know what, let’s go back up, paps and frisk might be back. and you two need’ta eat.”

The moment of caring throws you off guard but you keep pushing, “But-”

“no. i’m not tryin’ t’say you can’t ask questions, but it’s probably best if we leave the lab for a bit. and include frisk.” He pauses to take a deep breath, starting to walk towards the elevator after setting down the things he was fiddling with. “i’ll always give you a reason if i don’t answer a question right away, okay? jus’ right now there are things you and frisk probably need to talk about.”

You fall silent, the frustration bleeding out of you. You could live with that, you guess. And as much as you don’t want to admit it, he’s right. There were definitely things you and Frisk need to talk about, if the hundreds of notebooks down here are any indication. Maybe you could even sneak off somewhere to talk quietly, or go to Grillby’s just the two of you. 

“Hey, Sans,” you ask as you follow him into the elevator. The doors  _ whoosh _ shut behind you. “Do you promise?”

He tenses but doesn’t turn to look at you, focusing on the small combination to go back up -  _ lever, button, button _ \- and asks, “do i promise what?”

“Promise to give me a reason if you brush me off?”

“bud, do you really need a promise for that? my word not good enough?”

The ride doesn’t take as long to go up as it did going down. Sans’s tone is light and teasing but you can still see the tension in his shoulders under his hoodie when he takes off his lab coat, reaching over to grab yours, too.

“Yeah, fine,” you say. You cross your arms over your chest. “But..what about this - if it comes down to no other choice, that we have to use a human’s soul to break the barrier-”

You pause, almost losing your nerve, and swallow a couple times. The tops of your shoes sure are interesting right now. 

“If you need a Soul to break the barrier, use mine?”

You look up then, and see a distraught expression stretched taut over Sans’s face. The corners of his mouth are the furthest down you’ve ever seen them, almost melding his mouth with the bottom line of his jaw.  His eye-lights look tight, like a focused spotlight on an otherwise empty stage. As if he spent the last ten minutes screaming as loud as he could, his voice comes out rough and pained. “i ain’t promisin’ that.”

“Sans, I won’t let Frisk die.”

He looks deeply uncomfortable on top of every other negative emotion you can read. “i get it. i do. can we just...table the issue until after we figure something out with alphys?”

“You said you would give me a reason-”

“there are a million new things we haven’t tried to get around that barrier now that you’re here. that enough reason for you?” His skull slowly slides to something more tired than pained. “let us try first, will ya?”

You slowly nod, not trusting your own voice right now. After a few more heavy seconds between you, he holds out his hand to take you on another shortcut back up to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Discussions of death and sacrifice
> 
> Hey, guys!! :D Let me know below what questions you have, it really helps me to focus on what plot points need more focus.
> 
> Aaaand we _might_ get to see through the eyes of the bonebro next chapter ;)


	21. Seeing Double

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans reflects on the story so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

Watching the way you stand, fists balled at your sides and hair long enough to flop into your eyes, it all sets Sans’s teeth on edge.

You’ve never looked more like Frisk. 

And that fucking frightens him.

But what frightens him more than anything is the way he feels when he thinks about what you’re offering. You want him to let you die if that’s the only way to free monsters. Or, even to do the deed himself.

If Frisk had asked him that in the depths of another genocide run, the dozenth, fiftieth, hundredth time in a row the kid went on a murderous rampage, then he would have agreed without hesitation. Anything to stop him from watching his brother and friends die over and over. He’s not proud of that thought, but he won’t deny it.

But you? The way his Soul clenches and gets sick with the idea of hurting you? That’s enough to make him want to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in one go, use Gaster Blasters to destroy the Snowdin Forest, face down Asgore himself...

And he barely knows you.

The moment you truly died on that last run, literally dying in his arms before he felt the world unravel and reverse back to the moment he woke up from a dead sleep in bed, something changed. He’d felt the distinct rollback and forward the other times you restarted time, of course, but you hadn’t  _ died _ before. And he’d let it happen. Hell, he practically _ made _ it happen. With Frisk he was able to stay away from causing anything out of turn, but with you, it’s like he’s constantly caught with his hands in the monster candy jar.

The force of the pull he feels towards you is unsettling to say the least. 

It had been ten years since he’d felt a shift in the timeline and he had almost forgot how his Soul felt afterwards. The first time you did it while in the Ruins with the queen, he sensed more differences than similarities, and wouldn’t have noticed the shift at all if he hadn’t checked his watch. 

Your shifts don’t feel like Frisk's loads and resets, so he thinks using the word ‘shift’ in his own head will help to keep those separate. Where Frisk’s actions tore him apart and stitched him back together each and every time they happened, yours remind him of watching VHS tapes with Papyrus. He knows you’re supposed to pause the film before rewinding, but as a kid Paps always loved watching the movie in reverse and in quadruple time. 

That's what your shifts feel like. He’s a character on screen moving backwards and restarting from a place he was in a previous scene of the movie. It’s not nearly as painful for him. Sure, it’s unsettling and makes his non-existent stomach want to hurl, but it’s not that bad.

And, if he has anything to be grateful for in this fucked up existence, it’s that. So he focuses on the things he knows are different about you. 

You and Frisk are twins, you look very alike but it’s not like with monster twins where your Souls are two halves of a whole. He’s seen, felt, and judged them both. They are definitely different, and not just because one is the reddest determination he’s ever seen and the other is the loveliest shade of royal purple. Your Souls recognize each other the same way his and Papyrus’s do, as siblings, as family.

It’s also kind of odd for him to see twins that look so similar on the outside. Monster twins only look alike on a Soul level. He wonders if all human twins look so alike on the outside but with different Souls. He blames that for why he attacked you outside of the Ruins so quickly. Honestly, he thought you were that possessive little demon at first. If he never sees them again it will be too soon.

For all of that, there are still many things he recognizes this go-around. Frisk is just an older and taller version of the kid he’s known for thousands of resets. When they didn’t come back one day and the timeline stretched on, at first Sans had been beside himself. He knew the breakdown had to happen sooner or later. To his credit he held out for six months before Papyrus noticed and all hell broke loose.

It never took that long for Frisk to come back out of the Ruins. Their curiosity was always too strong to keep them with Toriel forever. Instead of counting the days until he predicted the next reset, Sans started to mark the days on a whiteboard in his smaller lab. Keeping track of the time is a habit he’s still plagued by, and knows he will be for as long as he exists.

_ thanks for that, kid _ , he muses to himself.

But he also thinks, it can’t be all bad. It seems there could be a light at the end of this metaphorical hellish tunnel.

You.

When Sans lost his shit a few months into the current reset timeline, it was when Papyrus found him curled up sleeping next to the door to the Ruins. He doesn’t actually remember all of what happened but Papyrus told him the story when he asked.

The first thing his younger brother noticed was that his brother was not actually asleep in the snow, but wide awake and staring at the door as if it held all the secrets in the world. At the time, it did, and Sans was lost without direction. A whoopee cushion was frozen against his palm and Sans was muttering a few short phrases over and over again. 

He’d been that way for at least two days, as far as Papyrus knew.

Sans told him everything, then. The mindset that he had nothing to lose helped. There was still no telling when Frisk would come back. At first Papyrus was frustrated Sans hadn’t told him sooner. But, in his own wonderful way, his younger brother understood. He took it all in stride.

Man, Papyrus is so cool.

Afterwards, Sans felt stupid for not telling Papyrus before. Whenever he had his episodes where all he could do before was tell Papyrus excuse after excuse to get him to leave him alone for a little while to cope with whatever trauma was bothering him, he had someone to talk to. The first time, Papyrus made sure Sans had fresh clothes to change into as soon as he woke up, and a glass of water on his nightstand. The second time, he wrinkled his nose but actually got in bed with him and made him talk out what exactly was causing his insomnia. Other times Papyrus would make hot cocoa, watch a movie, or simply let him sleep.

Through all of this he helped Sans keep most of his jobs. Sans was the main breadwinner, after all. Papyrus wouldn’t stand for it though when Sans would run himself ragged just to make ends meet and distract himself. Something shifted in him that Undyne noticed right away. By the time eighteen months since the last reset passed, Papyrus was Junior Captain of the Royal Guard. 

Sans doesn’t like to think how he could have been holding his brother back this whole time. And he doesn’t want to see all of the last decade of hard work to go to waste. His, Alphys’s, Papyrus’s...there’s too much at stake. It’s only a matter of time before Asgore notices there are two new human Souls in his kingdom. 

No, Sans won’t stand for it. He needs to figure out what it is about you that forces his habits out of the window faster than he can shortcut. There won’t be any more unnecessary death if he can help it. Not Frisks’s, not yours, not Papyrus’s...

You don’t know what you’ve done, offering your Soul like that to him. He doesn’t plan to waste it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Discussions of death and sacrifice, as well as the resets.
> 
> HELLO! Y'all's comments give me life, you know. Let me know what you think of switching to Sans's point of view! And any questions you have!


	22. Wanna Go to Grillby's?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four of you try to unwind a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

You secretly hope you never have to get used to the weird lighting in the Underground. When you’d asked Papyrus how it worked he’d blinked at you with his light-less eye sockets and prattled on in a way that told you he had no idea what the sun looked like or how it worked. That made you sad, really, and even more prepared to persevere and see your plan through to the end.

The taller skeleton brother and your twin were back in the house by the time you and Sans emerged from his lab. After your pretty heavy conversations you aren’t in the mood to talk much. He doesn’t seem to be, either, which suits you just fine.

It’s still a bit of mental gymnastics to think how fast you’ve gone from not trusting him at all, to trusting him with what might be the most important thing you’ve ever decided.

Compared to the last few days in Snowdin, the atmosphere of the house is vastly different. In some ways it’s as if a huge weight is lifted from everyone’s shoulders. There’s also a deeper sense of familiarity that you don’t remember feeling since you were in a foster home you liked, or with your parents. A sense of belonging, of responsibility, of something a little more. 

You just wish the weight of the world wasn’t all transferred onto your shoulders now.

The only person that seems to notice how flat out exhausted you are is Sans. You can feel his eyelights check on you every minute or so as the four of you sit in the living room. 

Frisk is back to speaking primarily through sign language though you can hear their words and voice in your head at the same time. Definitely will need to start getting used to that, you think to yourself. You also wonder if this is how all the monsters have been able to understand them the whole time. Have they always been projecting their voice like that, just excluding you? The thought makes you feel more than a little stung. You aren’t even sure if your hypothesis is correct, so you try to file that question away to ask someone later, like Papyrus or Sans. You wish you could ask Toriel.

They’re also acting like they’re still trying not to meet your eyes or stray into a topic of conversation that can get messy again. It’s typical behavior of them, not dealing with the issue right away, or at all. But a thought hits you as you consider this.

If they used to have the power to use this save and load ability almost at will then they probably never felt like they’d have to deal with their problems. It explains a lot about them, actually. How impulsive they can be. You stare at the pattern of the blanket on your lap as you think about it. Why would they make decisions like their actions had consequences? They could always go back.

That could be why they ran  _ towards _ the fire at the factory instead of away, like you did. They ran towards the explosion and got hurt for it. You know they’re brave, but they’re reckless, and this explains so much.

“_______, ARE YOU HUNGRY?”

Papyrus’s voice is loud and cuts through your thoughts easily. “Oh, yeah, actually. Sorry. My mind was wandering.”

“THAT’S OKAY, MY FRIEND! SANS’S DOES THAT A LOT, TOO, BUT HE DOESN’T BITE HIS LIP LIKE YOU DO. I’M AFRAID YOU’RE SO HUNGRY YOU’RE STARTING TO EAT YOURSELF.”

With wide eyes you look up at him. He doesn’t believe that, does he? But Papyrus’s face is gently teasing you, and he reassures you by reaching over from his seat on the floor to nudge you with his gloved hand. 

“wanna just go to grillby’s tonight?” Sans says.

Papyrus huffs. “SANS YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THE FOOD AT THAT ESTABLISHMENT.”

“yeah but we never got a chance to go to the shop for more food and bun’s is closed for the night.”

Opening his mouth to reply, Papyrus holds up his hand to argue, and stops with a loud sigh. “YOU ARE CORRECT, BROTHER. AND IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA TO LEAVE SNOWDIN JUST YET.”

“Undyne?” you ask, catching his drift easily.

“PRECISELY. WORD HAS NOT SPREAD ABOUT A HUMAN, OR TWO HUMANS FOR THAT MATTER, IN THE UNDERGROUND. IT WOULD BE BEST TO KEEP IT THAT WAY.”

“What if we tell her we plan on breaking the Barrier though?”

The room is quiet enough that you could hear the quiet snuffles of Annoying Dog under the sink in the kitchen. Sans looks like he’s dozing off in his armchair near the stairs and Frisk’s eyes are covered with their hair. Papyrus is the one who faces you to answer.

“I WISH IT WERE THAT EASY, MY FRIEND, BUT I AM AFRAID UNDYNE THINKS THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY TO DO THAT. SHE WOULD ESCORT YOU PERSONALLY TO THE KING WHERE...WELL…”

Papyrus is visibly upset and starts to trail off. He’s moved up next to you on the large sofa, with Frisk on his other side, so it’s easy to reach your hand over to rest it on his forearm. It’s still covered by his soft gloves that are part of his Royal Guard uniform so you don’t think anything of the lack of heat against your palm. You’d only felt that when touching Sans’s bones directly so you figure it has something to do with direct contact - which you plan on avoiding if you think of it.

The tall skeleton looks down at your hand and up to your face. It hurts your heart and Soul to see a light glow at the corners of his eye sockets that look suspiciously like tears.

“I know what it means, Paps. You don’t have to say it. But we do have to try to explain it to her eventually, because she’s in the area before Alphys, right?”

“THAT’S CORRECT.”

“For tonight we can just eat and try to get some sleep before doing anything else, then,” you say to reassure him. “C’mon, I really am getting hungry.”

Papyrus insisted on dressing you in more layers than you thought were necessary since this is the first time he’s seen you go outside since you collapsed in the snow and had to be warmed up with both magic and mundane means. You don’t fight him, just enjoy the idea of someone fussing over your well-being instead of the other way around. Frisk is similarly bundled up and the two of you force Papyrus to walk much slower than normal. Your legs can’t move as freely so your pace is restricted.

Sans enjoys the leisurely pace, if you read the grin on his face correctly. It still looks too fake but you’re out in public so you don’t question it. He has his own coping methods and that’s fine. Who are you to question it?

In the distance Grillby’s looked warm and inviting. The town of Snowdin is just as busy as it was when you first arrived, though it’s dinnertime so there are tons more kids running around than what you saw before. But there still doesn’t seem to be that many. You just really noticed their absence before.

Walking next to Sans you try to keep him between you and the other crowds of monsters. He sticks next to you guys, too, and you share a knowing look. Even through all the layers it would be best if no one bumped into the two humans strolling through Snowdin like it was an ordinary day. If monsters could tell by touch that the two of you aren’t made of magic...things could go south very quickly.

Still, you feel very protected with the skeletons. You all have a common goal after all. It’s in their best interest to keep the two of you safe and alive. Besides that, everyone seems to be showing them respect as you walk by, especially to Papyrus. He is a member of the Royal Guard, after all. One small monster gave him a salute that he immediately returned. The child dissolved into giggles and curled into their parent’s side with a sudden shyness. Papyrus jogged in place to release some of his excess energy, laughing with Frisk over how cute the child was.

You catch Sans’s smile get more genuine as he watches the exchange between his brother and the child.

Inside of Grillby’s is just as busy as outside. The four of you easily find a booth, though. As what appears to be the only restaurant in town it has enough tables and chairs to accommodate. A green flame monster you don’t recognize stops over when you all get settled. There’s a tray with four glasses and a few plates of food balanced on her arm.

“Hey, guys! I’ll let G know you’re here.”

“THANK YOU, FUKU!” Papyrus says.

Sans nods to the monster before she walks away to deliver her burden to a table full of bird monsters. The two skeleton brothers take the outside of the booths while you and Frisk sit across from each other on the inside. It’s plenty roomy, so it’s easy for you to pull your coat off without hitting Sans. You offer to take Frisk’s extra layers and put them on the bench next to you. They wave you off, and shove it under them for extra cushion instead.

The four of you get settled, but you’re the only one that’s looking over one of the menus. A few more are kept at the end of the table by the salt shaker and a few condiments. No one else is reaching over to grab one, and when you offer one towards the skelebros or your twin, they all politely decline.

“SANS AND I ALWAYS GET THE SAME THING,” Papyrus explains. His armor is still on, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable sitting indoors with all those layers. “DO YOU NEED SUGGESTIONS?”

“Actually, yeah,” you say, setting the menu down.

“burger and fries,” Sans says. He pats his stomach for emphasis. “best grub in the underground.”

Frisk throws a thumbs up towards Sans in agreement.

“THE FRIES ARE GOOD BUT EVERYTHING IS SO GREASY...EXCEPT THE GRILLED CHICKEN PITA!”

After seeing strange imitations of other meats and things down here, you’re suddenly very intrigued. “You know, I’m still getting used to monster food so I’ll start with fries and a milkshake, and order more if I’m - well, if _we_ are still hungry.”

You press a hand into your pants pocket to see if you have the gold coins you collected in the Ruins still, and glancing at the menu prices you figure you have plenty to spare for a good filling dinner. Thankfully. The last thing you want to do is take advantage of the skelebros’s kindness.

“WELL, I CAN’T APPROVE OF JUST FRIES AND A MILKSHAKE BUT IT’S AN OKAY PLACE TO START! YOU MAY TRY SOME OF MY FOOD TO SEE IF YOU LIKE IT, FRIEND.”

You smile up at him before shoving the menu back in its place. “Thanks, Papyrus, I’d love that.”

Normal. This is almost normal.

You wish you could stop thinking about what’s next long enough to really enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : None in particular.
> 
> HEY GUYS! :D
> 
> After so much plot and drama the last couple of chapters I felt it was important to have our characters interact a little more, get more familiar as they move forward and make future plans. There is no situation where more interaction with Papyrus is a bad thing, amirite?


	23. Receiving Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet moment in the lab and a message from Hotland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

“can you pass me that journal over there?”

You look up from your work and squint at the bookshelf nearby. “Which one, Sans? There’s literally hundreds in here.”

“second shelf, fourth from the left.”

You get up from where you were taking notes and reach for the notebook. It’s one of the many spiral bound notebooks you used in school all the time, college ruled, the metal wire sort of bent in odd places from being manhandled so much. Sans takes it from you with a flash of a smile, which you mirror back to him before going back to your corner of the lab.

Frisk flatly declined any notion of joining the two of you in the lab, preferring to do their own research at the Librarby and working for Grillby. You didn’t fight them on it. After so much time spent together in cramped spaces, the two of you needed time to cool off, and sort yourselves out. The few gold coins they brought home made both of you feel like you weren’t taking advantage of the brothers.

Honestly, the amount of time it took for you to fall into a routine without them was almost disconcerting. You tried not to focus on how comfortable you were spending hours apart as you helped Sans in the lab and they did...whatever it is they do.

One of your notebooks is solely to keep track of how much time you’ve spent in the Underground since leaving the Ruins. If you have this power to jump around in time and no way to really predict or control it, you want some sort of anchor. It’s your tenth day in Snowdin, specifically, including the time you “lost” during the first few shifts. On this shift you’ve been here five days, the other five essentially lost to the aether as far as anyone can tell. That means you’ve been Underground for almost two months now. Were people still looking for you? Did anyone even know you were gone? 

You shake your head. Of course they do! Two kids about to graduate are definitely going to be noticed. You spare a thought for what your foster parents must be going through - though you don’t like them, really, they aren’t as cruel as the last family the two of you were placed with. You wince as you think about that. It just makes you more anxious to get out.

“any luck yet?”

“No,” you answer to Sans. “I still haven’t seen any mention of any other way to get out of here besides using human and monster souls together.”

“damn. was hoping there was somethin’ i might’ve missed in the middle of all those resets.”

There’s a beat of silence as the two of you continue to work - even though you just feel like you’re keeping yourself busy, not exactly being helpful to Sans doing whatever he’s doing with that lab equipment and jars of brightly colored substances.

“Sans?”

“Hmm?

“What did Frisk do with the resets?”

You’re watching Sans as you ask your question. His shoulders tense for a second and he slows his work to a stop. 

“i’m not avoidin’ you on this one,” he starts, turning to face you, “but i really think that’s somethin’ the two of you have to talk about together. i...have a biased view, i think, and i want you to hear it from them first.”

When you sit there and stare at him biting your lip, he heaves a sigh. “if ya feel like you need someone there with ya when ya ask, i’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Sans,” you say, breathing a sigh of relief. 

You smile at him and a very faint line of blue appears below his eye sockets before he turns back to work on what’s on his bench. Without realizing it, your cheeks color a little, too, and you bite your lip as you lean back over your own task.

~~~

Later that day after you’re done helping Sans with his work while you try to learn as much as you can about the situation, catching up with what Frisk remembers from all the resets when they were younger, the four of you in the house are settling in to watch a movie. It’s one of the Disney VHSs the brothers found in the dump in Waterfall ages ago that still works. 

There’s a knock at the door as soon as Papyrus starts to settle the blanket over all of your laps.

“i got it,” Sans says before anyone else can acknowledge it.

Since he’s in the middle, he doesn’t bother pulling the blanket off of you all and teleports from his spot to the front door. He waits a moment before turning the handle, though. He looks over his shoulder at the two of you, but you’re already gone, you and Frisk leaping over the back of  the couch to hide just like you all had discussed before.

Maybe there’s too much popcorn on the table, maybe it’s conspicuous to have four glasses there, too, but it’s nothing he hasn’t explained away before. Besides, it would all depend on who was at the door.

But he’s sure it’s only one of two people.

When he opens it and greets the knocker, he has to stop himself from sighing in relief to see Cygnus, the no-armed kid who worked as a courier through the Underground. The cell service is getting more and more unreliable underground, though no one knows why. Alphys is working on it but it’s only getting worse every month. 

Returning to reliance on couriers wasn’t something Sans was happy about but it did mean he had a great excuse to force the two humans staying with him to linger longer. He had to send a courier message to Alphys to check if she still needed help in her lab, if she still had an open offer to work with her. She responded slower than he had expected, which worried him, but he’s happy to see Cygnus now all the same.

If Undyne had decided to drop by unannounced...he doesn’t want to think about that right now.

“Yo, Sans! What’s up, dude?”

“hey there, cyg, you got a message for us or just visiting?”

Cygnus steps onto the mat inside so Sans can close the door behind him. The lizard-type monster can only take so much cold, even though he’s lived in Snowdin his whole life and could handle it better than other monsters like him.

“Message for you from Alphys. She wanted to make sure I said sorry for her since she waited to respond for so long.”

Sans nods at Cygnus in understanding. Papyrus calls out a greeting from the couch and Cygnus wiggles one of his frond-shaped feelers on top of his head to wave back. 

“did you need to warm up?” Sans asks, reaching into the pocket of his hood to get a few gold for Cygnus.

“Nah, thanks though, I gotta head home. You’re my last stop.” The monster uses a small burst of magic to pull his coin purse from inside his jacket. “Thanks, dude. Catch you around sometime?”

“yeah, of course, cyg.”

The two monsters bump heads gently in an imitation of a brofist, which Papyrus comes over to do with the shorter monster as well. With another burst of cold air from the front door, he’s gone, headed back to his home at the edge of Snowdin and Waterfall.

Papyrus leans over the back of the couch. “IT IS ALRIGHT TO COME BACK UP NOW!”

You and Frisk go around the couch on opposite sides, settling back into your spots. Sans is glad you two haven’t had to do that very often, only three times now, because it makes both of your souls very uncomfortable to be around for a few hours afterwards.

His sensitivity to your souls is something he wants to talk to Papyrus about once there is a free moment just the two of them. Sans can’t remember being able to feel Frisk this strongly ten years ago when they held the power to reset time. Something had changed, and he feels determined to find out what.

Heh. Determined. He brushes away that thought like an annoying house fly. Poor choice of word, but correct nonetheless.

The chip Cygnus brought with him sits heavily in Sans’s palm as he watches the others get ready to watch the movie. He can feel your eyes on him especially though Papyrus is being more covert about monitoring him. His younger brother is far smarter than anyone gives him credit for, and it’s not hard to see what this means. Only Frisk seems to be pretending to be oblivious to what this could mean.

Depending on what Alphys says, it could be time to take the twins out of Snowdin and through Waterfall to her lab in Hotland. 

He can feel his voice work on autopilot. “i’ll just be a second, start the movie without me guys.”

Before he can hear anyone’s response, he’s gone up to his room behind the locked door. He waits until he can hear the opening chords of the tape play before be breathes again. A hand-sized device made from an old phone model sits on his desk next to several newer models he’d found and tried to repair from the dump. Shoving the chip into the back of the device, he waits for it to fully power on and presses the green phone button, lifting it to his ear as he waits for Alphys to answer.

“here goes nothin’,” he mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : None in particular.
> 
> I hope it's obvious that Cygnus is Monster Kid grown up a bit, but if not, here's your confirmation! Also, side note, since I had a full chapter of Sans's point of view, how are you guys feeling about most chapters from here on out being a bit of a split between yours and Sans's point of view? I plan to keep using "you" as the way the Reader is referred to instead of "her" just to keep the tense relatively the same. Lemme know in the comments!
> 
> What do you think Sans sent to Alphys? What do you think she said back????
> 
> _pssssssssssst_ guess what chapter 24 is already written, too, though I dunno when that will get posted


	24. Take a Deep Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If we've learned anything from Sans it should be not to make promises you can't keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

To your surprise, Frisk falls asleep with their head in your lap halfway through the movie. 

“THEY HAVE BEEN WORKING VERY HARD WITH GRILLBY,” Papyrus stage-whispers to you. 

The sound is much softer than his normal volume but somehow - magic, you assume - you still feel him at twice a normal “inside voice”. He looks at you for a moment longer before turning back to the cherrily singing people on screen, animated characters mingling with live-action players with effects that were revolutionary for their time. 

It doesn’t completely distract you from everything going on, though, between wondering what Sans is still doing with the message from Alphys in his room and Frisk’s body resting against yours. It’s the first time the two of you have really done anything like this in a week. You’re used to casually hugging, holding hands, and generally being around your very tactile sibling. They told you once that the touch helped to ground them, especially after losing most of their sight and hearing as a child. It still warms you from the inside out to think about how they see you as a way to ground themselves.

Your hand rests on the shoulder not digging into your thigh, and after a bit of hesitation, you lift your hand to push Frisk’s hair out of their face.

Sans is right that you need to talk to them about what happened during the resets. It’s not going to be an easy conversation, that much you know deep in your gut and your soul, but it has to happen. Sooner rather than later.

You don’t know how much time either of you have left. Your stomach gets washed in icy fear for a moment as you think about it, and you swallow to fight the panic. You’re an adult now. Time to make adult decisions, right?

Their soft shaggy hair beneath your hands is achingly familiar. You miss talking to them, spending hours sitting in your shared room at the foster home swapping stories about school, sharing articles or funny pictures you’d found that day. You miss that sense of normality. That feeling didn’t go away until after it was revealed you were affecting the Underground far more than you thought.

That still boggles you. From all that you’ve studied, a purple soul like yours based in perseverance wouldn’t necessarily have the power to do what you do. The few things you’ve seen show that red, determination, Frisk’s color...that’s what should be able to have control.

You aren’t sure if you’re more relieved or paranoid to have this power. You don’t even know how to control it. Would Sans or Papyrus be able to help you?

“_________, DO YOU WANT ME TO STOP THE MOVIE?”

Papyrus is looking at you again but this time instead of open admiration and affection, you see concern.

“What? No, I’m still awake, Paps. We can finish it.”

“THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEAN, MY FRIEND.”

You look at him and blink. As expressive as the skeleton brother’s faces are, you still are learning to read their cues and tells.But that raised brow bone is unmistakable.  You hum with defeat and keep your voice quiet to let Frisk rest. They may have damaged hearing but you were amazed sometimes at what they  _ could _ hear, especially since falling down here. 

“I guess I’m a little distracted.”

“MORE THAN A LITTLE. WAS THERE SOMETHING ON YOUR MIND YOU’D LIKE TO TALK TO YOUR GREAT FRIEND PAPYRUS ABOUT?”

“Still trying to get my thoughts together,” you say to give yourself time to think, “but I’d love to hear what you have to say about it. Do you mind?”

“NO, I WOULD MUCH RATHER YOU TALK IF THAT WOULD HELP. I DON’T LIKE SEEING MY FRIENDS TROUBLED.”

“You really are a great friend, Papyrus.”

The earnesty in your voice makes Papyrus sputter quietly and get a light orange blush on his cheeks. “W-WELL OF COURSE I AM! AND YOU ARE A GREAT FRIEND, TOO, _________.”

You lean into Papyrus a bit more than you were already. You’re close enough that he can hear you without having to face him or turn off the movie. “I’m still getting used to being down here, I guess. I mean where we’re from magic was just something that they made up in movies or in books. Like this movie - Mary Poppins uses magic to help watch the children, but that’s all it was. Magic was a way to explain science back hundreds of years ago before medicines were invented. Now, down here, it’s  _ real.  _ Hell, you are  _ made _ of magic!”

“I AM!” Papyrus confirms happily. “MOST MONSTERS ARE, THOUGH SOME, LIKE KING ASGORE AND UNDYNE, HAVE PARTLY FLESHY BODIES LIKE YOU DO.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“YES!”

“That’s super cool. But that’s a whole other thing, too. Everything is different down here. Not that it’s bad. From what I’ve seen it’s a pretty cool place to be.”

Papyrus’s eye sockets narrow at your unintended pun. The two of you share a chuckle and an eyeroll, knowing exactly where you’d picked that up. 

You continue explaining what’s on your mind. “But it’s not fair. It isn’t right...I don’t want you guys to be stuck under this mountain forever, either. It helps working with Sans in the lab, going through notes and learning about what this place is, what it means, how things work...but I don’t understand half of it. I feel like I’m kind of helping when I work with him. It’s not enough though, is it? And I can’t keep my thoughts straight. Does that make sense?”

You catch your breath at the end of your short rant and look up at Papyrus. His skull is leaning forward as he looks at his hands resting on top of the blanket. When he speaks, it’s even quieter than before, quieter than you’d imagine he could be.

“It makes sense that you are confused. I am glad you’re working with my brother to try to get us out of here. It means so much to me that you want to try. I understand what could happen to you two if Asgore or Undyne doesn’t listen.” You can feel something in your chest that you suspect is your soul squeeze a bit with emotion as you listen to him. “I  don’t want to lose my brother, or to see him trapped down here forever. He worries too much about everyone but himself. And I don’t want to lose another friend, either.”

That sentence feels heavy. You don’t feel it’s appropriate to ask who he’s talking about right now, what friend he’s referencing. You’ve overheard Sans and Papyrus worrying about monsters ‘falling down’ all over the Underground and both of them get very pained looks on their faces whenever they talk about it.

“You won’t lose me, Paps,” you say. “I promise.” 

You’re surprised at how choked your voice sounds. And how easily the lie slips past your lips.

The rest of the movie the two of you lean into each other on the couch, Frisk’s body curled into yours.

~*~

Sans sits cross-legged on the landing above the three of you silently. He’d overheard most of your conversation with Papyrus. Talking to Alphys had taken longer than he’d expected but there was a plan to move forward. When he’d finished and slipped back through reality to exit his room, instead of unlocking the door, he knew he’d walked into an important conversation and he didn’t want to interrupt. He figures even Papyrus didn’t notice he was out of his room yet, and his brother is more perceptive than almost any monster he knows.

His skull gently bumps into the railing in front of him and he looks through the gaps in the wooden slats down at you all. What you promised Papyrus sits heavily in his soul. How could you tell him he wouldn’t lose you after what you’d asked him mere days ago? If this experiment chain with Alphys failed, or they were stopped before they had a chance to complete the testing…

He would just need to make sure that didn’t happen. If only one of you returned to the Surface...he couldn’t even imagine the shitstorm monsterkind would face. It wouldn’t take long for humans to put two and two together over what happened. Two kids in, one kid out - simple math that spelled disaster to everything they were working towards.

Sans would know, after all. There were less than a handful of vague memories he tried to cling to in the last ten years when things got bad: 

The sight of the setting sun over a body of water so vast it made him believe, for the first time, how big the planet was. 

Standing with Toriel, Asgore, and a few others on the lip of a cliff face after the barrier was broken.

Stargazing with a Frisk who was still shorter than him and his brother, finally able to put his astronomy studies to good use.

Each thought that passes through his head makes his soul pinch a little tighter. The tiny moments of bliss did not make up for the decades of resets. Why Frisk felt the need to reset  _ again _ after getting to the Surface, though, he can’t remember. He hopes it was for a good reason.

Though, he does remember after the last time they made it to the Surface pretty well. It was the moment with stargazing. He’d fallen asleep in the grass on that hilltop then woken back up in his bedroom in Snowdin with his brother banging on his door, begging him to get up and go to work at his station in Hotland. That one hurt more than almost any other. Then, the demon started a genocide run and he’d never had to fight so hard in his life. Maybe it wasn’t Frisk making those resets happen after all.

Sans’s eye sockets blow wide with the idea, the implication, the very notion hitting him like a brick. The eye lights inside the sockets disappear.

“stars above,” he chokes out to himself.

Before he gives away his spot on the landing with ragged breathing and the insatiable need to scream, Sans teleports away to the first place he thinks of away from the house. The soft ground of a cave in Waterfall barely started to soak into his slippers before he was gulping in air to his invisible lungs. His bones rattle and clack as he paces around in a tight circle, spooking the bioluminescent plant life down here into hiding back inside their cocoons. He doesn’t even notice the way the lighting fluxes. His mind is racing.

What if Frisk wasn’t the one who had the power to reset? Sans knows about the demon, about the  _ thing _ that Alphys created in her lab without knowing what would happen. 

“can’t be that goddamned weed,” he hisses through his teeth. “could it? is frisk really the one doing this?”

The plants don’t respond.

His mind starts to unravel it before his emotions are ready to accept it. The rattling from his bones gets louder in the tiny space until it echoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Sans does not have a good time, Reader has a moment of existential crisis, mentions of past genocide runs.
> 
> Why would you promise that to Paps, do you know something I don't know? Do you have a plan already of how NOT to give up your Soul? What about Sans? You basically asked him to promise to _kill_ you if it comes to it?


	25. Don't Get Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

Sans doesn’t come out of his room the rest of the night. 

After the movie finishes Papyrus helps you clean up and get the couch ready to sleep on again. He keeps trying to get one or both of you to use his bed instead. Each night, you’d insisted the couch was really comfortable and you didn’t want to be more of a bother than you already are.

“FRIENDS CAN’T BE BOTHERS!” Papyrus says as you decline the offer again.

“Actually, they can if they overstay their welcome,” you reply.

“YOU COULD NEVER OVERSTAY YOUR WELCOME, _________. WELL, GOOD NIGHT. LET ME KNOW IF YOU NEED ANYTHING AT ALL!”

Ah, Papyrus. You wave goodnight to him as he walks upstairs. That monster is too precious and perfect to be real.

He stops at the bathroom and throws you one last wave before going in to shower before bed. After a minute or two, you can hear the water move through the pipes and upstairs. The sound is loud because of the amount of magic it takes to heat up the icy cold water from the river behind Snowdin.

Falling asleep is harder for you to do than it was for Frisk. You hadn’t had that much trouble the last few nights, managing a few hours sleep during the strange Underground nighttime. Some movement by your feet alerts you that Frisk might not be having as smooth a night as you assumed. They’re shaking a bit, and at first you assume they’re cold and you move to put another part of the blanket over their shoulders, but they jerk at the touch of your hand.

One of their hands flies up and smacks you across the face. You cry out in pain and surprise, backing up and holding your hand to your cheek.

Whether your sound of pain or their movement woke them up, the next instant Frisk is struggling to sit up. Their eyes are wild and huge. Every breath comes in as a gasp. Papyrus doesn’t hear any of this since the water is still running upstairs.

You’re rubbing your cheek and wondering if it would be a good idea to get a handful of snow from outside or if the brothers have anything that can be used as an ice pack in their freezer. Frisk’s eyes dart from your face to the window at the front of the living room then back to you over and over. Their breathing starts to go back to normal as your cheek starts to throb more. You know they didn’t mean to hit you but you still wish they would get it together and apologize.

“Frisk - are you okay? Were you having a nightmare?”

“I-” their voice is hoarse and cracks. They use sign language instead.  _ Yeah. Nightmare. What happened to your face? _

“Heh, you hit me, loser,” you say, nudging them with your foot under the blankets. 

They nudge you back. One hand balled into a fist rubs a small circle on their chest to say,  _ Sorry. Did I cut you or anything with my nails? Do you need some ice? _

“I’ll check out the fridge, it’s fine.”

_ No, let me help! _

Before you can protest again they push the blanket off and go to the kitchen. You get up and follow them. The bright light of the kitchen is a bit painful after just using the light from the television the last few hours. You sit at the table as Frisk peers into the freezer.

_ There’s a bag of peas in here, actually, _ Frisk says without turning around. Their hands are moving but you’re starting to hear that mind-voice again to accompany the motions.  _ That should work. _

With a small bag of peas pressed to your face to reduce swelling, you sit across the table from your twin and look at them carefully. Frisk grabbed you both glasses of water, too. They’re still fidgety after waking from their nightmare. You recall your conversation with Sans in the lab that afternoon. Ignoring your nervousness, you clear your throat to get Frisk’s attention and try to lead up to ask them a question that’s been bugging you for a week now.

“What was your nightmare about, Frisk?” you ask.

_ Not important _ , is their immediate reply.

You swallow your nerves again and press on. You have a feeling this won’t go well. Pushing them never really does.

“Did it have anything to do with the resets from before?”

Their response is immediate. Head snapping up to stare at you, expressionless, they ask,  _ What do you know about those? What did Sans tell you? _

“Nothing. That’s why I’m asking you.” You leave out the fact that you asked him about it first and it’s only by his prodding that you’re asking them at all. “I want to be able to help you with your nightmares like I used to.”

_ I really don’t want to talk about this right now. _

“Okay, then  _ when _ are we going to talk about this?” you ask. You set the bag of peas down and lean towards them a little. “We used to be able to talk about anything. Everything! Why are you hiding this from me?”

Frisk slams their fists down onto the tabletop, toppling the glasses of water. Almost empty, they don’t make a mess, but you’re staring at the bit of water pouring from them with your mouth agape. Their hands fly almost too fast for you to follow.

_ It HURTS, _________! It HURTS to talk about this! I spent so much time down here, I lost so much time. I can’t remember everything. I was eight! I was a child! A kid! And they asked me to fight them - I didn’t listen to Toriel. And I kept seeing people who weren’t there and golden stars all around the Underground that no one else could see and I felt guilty for leaving you and no matter what I did it wasn’t RIGHT! I haven’t felt this way in ten years I hate this and I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know- _

You’re out of your seat as Frisk’s hands start to repeat the same phrase over and over again. Their eyes are wild and tears are streaming down their cheeks. You grab their arms gently, always conscious to not make them feel like you’re trying to silence them by grabbing their hands, and pull them out of the chair and to you.

They stand a half inch or so taller than you now - when did that happen? - but that height difference makes it easier to pull them towards you and to let them tuck their face into your shoulder. You rub huge circles on their back. Their sobs are nearly silent as they try to pull themselves back together. 

You move the two of you back to the couch, but Frisk still struggles to get it together. Papyrus must have already gone back to his room since the door is shut and the sound of the shower is gone. You hope he didn’t see this breakdown. You also hope Sans stays in his room, that he fell asleep, because you get the feeling he’s the last person Frisk needs to see right now. They feel fragile in your arms.

Making soft shushing noises, you keep rubbing their back as they lean into you. They aren’t calming down much, still shivering and babbling nonsense about the resets and things you don’t understand through ASL. 

An idea strikes you and you close your eyes to focus. Since you found out you have some sort of time shifting power you’ve avoided interacting directly with your soul too much. But right now something tells you the peace of an encounter might be just what Frisk needs to calm down and either sleep or give you more clues how to help them. The soft music you’re familiar with now starts before the encompassing blackness does. You are still slightly aware of what’s going on in the house around you, but only enough to tell if someone enters the living room so you can stop what you’re doing immediately.

You can feel Frisk take their first deep breath beneath your hand as the encounter falls. The bright red of their soul and the royal purple of yours mingle as the only real lights in this strange state. 

Your voice comes from your soul and not your lips. “Tell me how I can help you.”

Frisk’s shakes start to turn to shivers instead. “I don’t know.”

“Does being here help?”

Frisk nods against your side. You sigh through your nose quietly. Fine, if this helps, you’ll keep this up as long as you can.

Here’s to another sleepless night.

* * *

...

...

...

...

**_...Finally._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Frisk does not have a good time, mentions of past genocide runs, nightmares
> 
> I have no idea what you're talking about nothing odd or dangerous is happening nothing at all ( ͡☉ ͜ʖ ͡☉) ( ͡☉ ͜ʖ ͡☉) ( ͡☉ ͜ʖ ͡☉)


	26. By the Bioluminescent Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one moment with Sans that all Reader Insert Stories kind of have to have at some point right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

You’re lying half-awake on the floor near the couch when you hear his feet hitting the stairs.

It’s easy to tell it’s Sans because Papyrus practically sails down from his room and the older brother takes his time. He’s moving even slower than normal, though. You lay still to try to keep sleeping and to not disturb his midnight wandering.

“why’re you on the floor?” he asks.

His voice is quiet enough that if you were asleep, you might not have heard it, but you’re awake so you stir a bit and decide to reply. Your eyes itch as you open them some more.

“Frisk was having nightmares,” you answer.

Sans looks at you curiously with his skull tilted to one side. His hands are in his almost ever-present pockets. He’s not wearing the pink slippers he always wears around the house though, just some white socks.

“you wanna take my bed tonight?”

Your cheeks flush a tiny bit and you sit up slightly. If you’re not mistaken, there’s a faint blue glow on Sans’s face, too. It’s easier to see that in the half-light of the living room. You’re certain that it’s his version of a blush and seeing it just makes you want to blush more in response.

“or you know, there’s a cot in the lab downstairs, too. whatever you want. just it will probably hurt your spine less if you’re not on the floor all night. and it will make walking through waterfall easier if you’ve got your sleep.” Sans rambles slightly, rubbing the back of his skull with his hand.

You let him ramble since it lets you collect your half-awake thoughts. You don’t want to think about why your automatic response to sleeping in his bed is to blush. It’s not like he’d said you’d be sleeping  _ next  _ to him or anything. Right?

Right??

“Wait,” you say, sitting up more. “Waterfall? We’re leaving Snowdin today?”

San’s eyelights look at Frisk’s fitfully sleeping form on the couch then jerks his skull towards the kitchen. You get the idea, taking the conversation away from the living room so you wouldn’t accidentally wake them. So much for getting some more sleep.

“alphys gave the good word,” Sans said as he opened the fridge. He stands and stares at the contents as if they have the answers to all the questions of the world. “paps works tomorrow in waterfall since it’s a wednesday.  _ water _ you want outta here?”

The pun makes your mouth twitch in a little smile. “I’ll have  _ water _ ever you’re having.”

“heh. doesn’t work as well if you use the same pun i just did.”

You stick your tongue out at him as you take the small fruit he offers you. It’s something that grows in a grove in Waterfall and is about the size of a plum. The dark orange fruit is far sweeter, though, and no pit in the middle.

“What’s keeping you up tonight?” you ask.

Sans slowly chews on his fruit and swallows before answering. “how do you know i didn’t just wake up for a snack?”

You don’t really have an answer for that, but somehow, you just know. Like a gut feeling. It doesn’t seem to bother him that much, though. He just chuckles and leans impossibly far back in his chair.

“was it just frisk’s nightmares keeping you up? i know the kid can be a bit  _ frisky _ -”

“Oh, my god, stop,” you say through a chuckle. “Dude that joke is so old that if I never hear it again it will be too soon. I mean, that’s why I couldn’t get to sleep at first but after they got back to sleep my thoughts just kept racing. They won’t shut up.”

Sans hums in reply. He’s closely inspecting the last few bits of fruit in his hand. “been there.”

“Yeah? Is that why you’re still awake, too?”

You watch the skeleton monster across from you as you press him for answers. It seems, unlike before with Frisk, your luck holds out. Sans sighs and tosses the fruit in his hand over his shoulder towards the trash can. He misses, but he uses blue magic to put it where it belongs.

“i keep thinking i don’t have all the facts,” he says. “it’s like a science experiment that keeps giving me the same results but i don’t know why - there’s a variable i’m missin’. keeps me up at night.”

“Makes sense,” you say with a yawn. Your yawn makes it so you don’t see the way he looks at you, the very ‘experiment’ he’s working through. “I still have to convince myself this is real whenever I wake up.”

There are a few beats of silence between you two before Sans lightly raps his knuckles on the tabletop. “ya wanna know what i like to do when i know i can’t sleep?”

You’re not sure if this is the set up for a joke or not but you play along. Resting your head against your arms, you look up at him with a sleepy smile and ask, “What?”

“lemme show ya. get your boots on, okay?”

\-------

Sans waits with his hands fiddling in his pockets while you get dressed. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you didn’t really ask, either. His mind won’t shut up about it as he waits.

The level of trust you’re giving him now is astronomical compared to just a week ago. He doesn’t know what changed to make you stop getting a fearful look on your face whenever you’re around him. Especially when you’re  _ alone _ together. He’d like to think that he’s made a good impression on you while working in the lab. He’s not sure - but damn is he sure that having your trust feels nice. The feeling is almost as good as the pride he feels for his brother.

You bounce on the balls of your feet a little when you stand. Right now you look a lot like Frisk, though your hair is still much longer and your face a bit slimmer than theirs. Frisk also stands a tiny bit taller than him now. He doesn’t know enough about human biology to understand why twins could look different, and he’s not sure how to ask without seeming rude. Monster children, even twins, don’t necessarily look the same. He and his brother are good examples of siblings who look just enough alike but the biggest thing they had in common is that they’re skeletons.

“I’m ready if you are,” you say to him.

“then  _ water _ we  _ wading _ for,” he says automatically. 

Your nose scrunches up a little as you fight a smile at the puns. He makes a mental note to keep punning more often if you keep making that face.

Holding out his arm for you, you grab his elbow and close your eyes to prepare for the jump. You’re getting better at this already. Since your eyes are closed as you walk forward through the pocket of reality he has momentary free reign to watch your face without you knowing. He wants to see how you react to what he’s going to show you.

When he asks you to open your eyes again, you gasp.

“Where are we? This is...it looks like the stars.”

“a remote place in waterfall,” he says. Your eyes bulge in surprise and the grip on his elbow tightens slightly. “don’t worry, undyne can’t find us here. i’m the only one who can get down here. that i know of, anyway.”

“Oh,” you say. Your grip on his arm loosens but when you start to let go, he grabs your hand with his and keeps it where it was.

“we’re close to a ledge. dunno how well you can  _ sea _ or hear, but there’s a huge lake down there. don’t move too far.”

You don’t even react to the pun - you’re too busy reacting to his hand on yours. Honestly, he’s a little too focused on that himself. 

Touching your skin directly is heady. He doesn’t rightly understand why that is - touching Frisk never made him feel like his hands were on fire, so he knows it’s not just a “human-monster thing”. As much as he wants to just believe it’s because your body temperature is higher than your twin’s, he knows better. You have no idea, though. And he’d like to keep it that way.

“I can hear it,” you say after a pause. “It sounds pretty far down.”

Sans nods and walks the two of you backwards towards a wall with a couple caves. Only one of them is big enough for someone taller than a whimsun. There are a couple of rocks nearby - not sentient ones - perfect for sitting and looking at the bioluminescent light all around. Once you’re both seated he lets go of your hand and the connection that burns him is gone. He shivers from a chill up and down his spine.

“What’s on the ceiling?” you ask after a few minutes of silence.

“crystals. they’re all over waterfall - probably some chemical reaction from the volcanic springs in hotland combining with substances over here over the years.”

“Leave it to you to take the magic out of it.” Your voice is teasing, and you bump your shoulder into him gently. “They really do look like stars.”

“this far away, yeah, but there are some places here where the ceiling is so low you could reach up and grab one.”

There’s another short stretch of silence before he catches you looking at him. He was too busy trying to sort out his thoughts - the reason he came here to begin with - to notice before.

“what?”

“I was trying to figure out how you know what the stars look like,” you say quietly. The teasing is gone now, replaced by sadness. “I thought maybe you’d seen pictures, or in movies, or that you’re old enough to have seen them, well, before.”

Sans lets you talk. He knows you already figured it out, and he doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“Frisk says the resets hurt to talk about. I guess that’s what their nightmares were about. Their hands kept signing  _ leave me alone _ as they slept.” Your voice is just a whisper as you continue, looking up to the false stars and leaning back into the rock beneath you. “Sans, I’m so sorry you’ve had to live like this for so long.”

“s’not your fault, _______,” he says immediately.

Your eyebrows knit together in a serious expression. It’s interrupted by a yawn that you cover with your hand. “Shit, sorry. No, I can’t help but feel like maybe things would be different if it were me that fell down here ten years ago.”

_ sure would be, buddy. i’d have nightmares of my soulmate killing me instead of her twin doing it. _

“Sans are you okay?”

“huh? yeah. lost track of my thoughts is all.”

You don’t look like you believe him but you set your jaw and allow it. “You think you’re ready to go back home now?”

Sans nods, relieved you’re dropping that line of inquiry, and stands, offering his hand to help you up. He still isn’t sure what to think about the change in the power of the resets and doesn’t want to deal with it right now. He needs time.

The burn returns where you make contact and he relishes in it. He wonders if you can feel it when you touch, too. 

He hopes you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Brief reference to botched pacifist/neutral runs and mental instability because of it.
> 
> Bone boy, you got it _bad_ my dude. If you squint you could almost call that a date, right?
> 
> Yo, this is also the 6th month anniversary of this fic! I'm so happy for all of you still following along and adding your comments. Without you there wouldn't be a story at all.


	27. Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trek begins from Snowdin to Hotland. Wonder if our friends will find anything...fishy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

_ It’s a lot more humid than I remember _ .

“HOTLAND IS GETTING HOTTER EVERY YEAR, SO WATERFALL GETS A LITTLE STEAMIER, TOO.”

You and Sans walk behind Papyrus and Frisk. In a single file to cross a small landbridge, the four of you make an odd looking group, and you hope your disguises are enough to keep the monsters from knowing that you’re human.

That morning you and Frisk packed up the belongings you brought with you to the Ruins. It’s amazing how fast Frisk’s things got spread out in the brother’s house after just a week. It took an hour to pack just your backpacks. But after Papyrus did his morning shift in Snowdin while children went to class and adults went about their days, the four of you set off. 

The taller skeleton has an assignment today in Waterfall, like Sans said, since it’s a Wednesday. The concept of days of the week being a thing feels so odd to you after living without them for a few months. Time really is a funny thing. If you’re not keeping close track of it then it runs away with you.

You walk leisurely on through the region, taking winding paths that aren’t very populated. It feels deliberate and you don’t question it. You trust Papyrus and Sans to know better where Undyne or other guards are likely to patrol. Mostly you run into farmers headed towards the fields the skeleton brothers explained are nearby.

Velvet is a terrible choice to stay warm in Snowdin. It’s an equally poor choice to stay comfortable in Waterfall. The satin lining on the inside of the tunics Toriel made for you sticks to the skin on your arms, lower back, and stomach as a light sheen of sweat starts. At least here the shoes she gave you are more useful, so long as you stay out of the muck. 

It’s better to wear the tunics, though. You and Frisk had shared a look before putting them on that morning. That little bit of extra protection and the delta rune could be the different between life and death - and the idea of anyone getting hurt for your sake starts an itching under your skin. You can’t help but think this tunic saved your life as much as it endangered it in that snowstorm before. Yes, it wasn’t warm enough to protect you, but the magic tried to make up for the lack of heat. Thinking about that day gives you a headache, though, since it  _ technically _ didn’t happen.

The idea that you’re getting used to thinking in terms of timelines makes you chuckle to yourself. Who would have ever thought this was possible and would be your life? You don’t consider yourself much more than ordinary, anyway. Even with what you know now it’s difficult to think that you might be.

“Why is Hotland getting hotter?” you ask.

Sans shrugs. “no one knows for sure, but we’re guessing there’s a vent somewhere that is building up pressure.”

You feel your stomach drop. “Wait, Hotland is volcanic, right”

“yep.”

“And if there’s building pressure in a volcano that - that isn’t good, is it?”

_ Holy shit that’s terrifying _ , Frisk adds. 

Their eyes are wide beneath their bangs. You wish they’d let you cut them, but down here it didn’t seem to hinder their vision at all any more than normal.

“YES. IT IS A PROBLEM MY BROTHER AND DOCTOR ALPHYS HAVE BEEN WORKING ON FOR SOME TIME.”

Frisk falls into step next to Sans and starts to sign quickly. You’re only able to catch what they’re saying because of the way their voice projects into the group’s minds.

_ Was this going on the last time I was down here, dude? _

“we hadn’t noticed yet,  _ tibia _ honest. alphys mentioned the heat was making her scales  _ bone dry _ and she had the idea to check out the climate instead of just ignoring it.”

Papyrus grumbled at the puns but the seriousness of the conversation kept him from yelling about it. That, and screaming about puns in this enclosed space wouldn’t be a great idea. Like Sans had said, there were crystals all over in this are, but the ceiling is low enough that you think if you were on Papyrus’s shoulders that you’d be able to work one loose from up above. They don’t look like stars here so you try to just think about what they looked like while sitting on the ledge with Sans.

Remembering the night before makes your blush rise a little so you refocus on the conversation instead. You’re sure you missed something because they moved on from the climate conversation.

_ You’ve spelunked down there?! _

Sans is grinning for real now. “yep. it’s somethin else, kid.”

_ Take me sometime! _ Frisk insists.

“Woah, spelunking in a volcano is  _ out _ , Frisk!” you exclaim.

_ Don’t be a spoilsport, what about magic? I’m sure it’s fine. _

“hate to turn your dreams to  _ ashes _ , kid, but that isn’t a good idea,” Sans said. He looked genuinely apologetic. “you’d be burnt to a crisp even with magic on your side.”

_ But it’s magic, why not? _

“MAGIC CANNOT DO EVERYTHING, MY FRIEND,” Papyrus adds. “IT WOULD BE BEST IF YOU DID NOT TURN TO ASHES. I LIKE HAVING YOU AS MY FRIEND AND NOT...DUSTED.”

Sans winces at Papyrus’s choice of words and your heart feels full and heavy at the same time from Papyrus’s tone. Frisk rushes up to hug the taller skeleton around his middle, the highest they can reach, and Papyrus wraps an arm around them too. They walk like that for a while in silence.

The four of you stop for a quick picnic lunch near a huge grove. Every tree and shrub stand in perfectly diagonal lines, bright lights floating over the branches like whimsical fairy lights.

“they’re torch-whimsuns,” Sans explains. He takes another bite of the sandwich Papyrus made for him - mostly ketchup with a few other things between the bread - before pointing out different kinds of fruit growing.

“SANS DO NOT TALK WITH YOUR MOUTH FULL!” Papyrus says. “THE TALLER TREES ARE FOR FRUIT, AND THE LOWER BUSHES ARE VEGETABLES. IT’S NOT HARVEST TIME YET. THIS PART OF WATERFALL SMELLS WONDERFUL THAT TIME OF YEAR.”

“There were a few farms near our school on the surface. I liked the way everything smelled when they were digging up the dirt to plant things.”

_ I miss the smell of rain. Spring rains are the best. _

“Do you also miss the rains down in Africa?” you ask.

Frisk shoots you a sharp look but can’t help but smirk. They nudge you with their foot, hard, and you giggle at your own joke. The two skeletons look lost, especially Papyrus who wondered when the two of you ever went to Africa and where it was, and you give up trying to explain the meme.

You look at Sans to your side and nudge him with your knee. “What about you? Everyone else has said stuff they like to smell. What’s yours?”

Sans freezes for a second before you see his jaw work to swallow his food. He looks like a deer in headlights before his grin gets a little wider. You know what’s coming and do nothing to stop it. If you can make a bad joke you can’t fault him for doing the same.

“i wouldn’t  _ nose _ about that.”

“SANS!”

You and Frisk erupt into giggles as Sans continues to torture Papyrus with terrible puns.

\---

No sign of Undyne so far makes Sans’s anxiety spike and fall as quickly as the line on a heart monitor. On one hand he’s relieved they haven’t seen her. On the other, he wishes he could just get shitshow that over with. 

If they were going to Alphys’s lab then the timer for the Captain finding out about two humans in the Underground was ticking away even faster. The two of them were inseparable lately, though Alphys promised she would make sure Undyne wasn’t at the lab today or tomorrow in case they had to sleep over. The walk from Waterfall took several hours, after all.

He’s glad his brother knows her route well enough to completely avoid her. There was a time that he knew it well enough to bug her all the time about allowing him into the Royal Guard. He wore the fish monster down until she agreed to train him, then  _ actually _ train him instead of teach him how to cook. Joining the force kept his younger brother occupied, driven, and well-paid. It was a blow to his ego at first to not be the one taking care of his brother, for that table to get flipped around. Seeing how happy Papyrus was, though, made up for that and then some. It also meant Sans was able to quit most of his odd jobs and start work on healthier coping methods and more scientific research to help the Underground.

Every now and then he catches himself staring at you walking next to or in front of him. You look worried but not scared. There’s a set to your shoulders that screams determination. Though your main trait is perseverance, he’s sure that the level of DT in your soul is higher than average.

“How much further to Alpys’s?” you ask after packing up lunch.

“WELL...WE’RE GOING THE LONG WAY. SO WE’LL BE IN HOTLAND IN ABOUT ANOTHER HOUR.”

You nod and pull your backpack over your shoulders. The hood on your tunic goes back over your hair. You’d braided it close to your head and you’d done something to Frisk’s, too. It doesn’t do much to hide your faces but the hoods were big enough the two of you reminded Sans of the Riverperson - face half hidden in shadow.

He doesn’t know if any other monsters sort of remember Frisk through the resets, but it would be better not to find that out yet.

Walking through Waterfall is usually one of his favorite things to do. The flora and geology fascinated and entranced him. He wouldn’t move here from Snowdin, though - Waterfall is too populated for his liking. There were still days he had panic attacks and needed to spend the whole day out in the woods to calm down. If a few trees were blasted out of existence, well, it was better than causing an avalanche in the much more enclosed area of Waterfall.

That and he couldn’t imagine living so far away from the door to the Ruins. He and Toriel were friends, of course, but the idea of missing any children walking through those doors...it didn’t bear thinking about.

Caught in his own mind, he misses the first crunch, but not the second one. The soft  _ clunk _ of metal against wet stone makes his head snap up.

“paps,” he says.

His brother slows immediately, moving fluidly to pull Frisk closer to him. Sans picks up his pace so he matches yours. The soft clunks continue a few yards away. It doesn’t sound like it’s in the way of your route, but it’s closer than he’s comfortable with.

Well. He wanted to get this over with Undyne sooner rather than later. Now he’s wondering if he should have just kept his mental mouth shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Mild anxiety and angst, but overall not a heavy trigger chapter.
> 
> Back to my pattern of using songs from the soundtrack as chapter titles for a little bit! Also, if I can keep up writing, I'll try to do one a week for this story, or two a month. With summer coming up no promises. I also have other fics going on like a birthday SansxReader for [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/pseuds/VividlyLost%22) (check her out!!), a couple of naughty requests for various AU pairings (SwapDyne, SwapSans, SwapPaps, and DancePaps specifically) so keep an eye out for those, The Language of Blood (my GrillbyxReader) and even a Skyrim fic! This is how my ADHD manifests, y'all, lots of writing across many projects or nothing at all.


	28. Undyne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strong fish, enter stage right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

You can’t hear what the brothers can above the dripping of water and soft rustle of plants all around you. You can guess what’s happening, though, by the way they both behave.

Papyrus stands close enough to Frisk that they bump into each other as they walk. On your side, Sans walks nearly as closely to you. There aren’t many monsters here. Papyrus wasn’t kidding when he said you were taking the long way since this doesn’t look like a major path at all. It’s hard to see a path at all in some spots, actually.

A few farmers wave to your group as you walk by. They seem to be on a break and are trying to call Papyrus over to chat, but the taller monster politely declines with a wave. The tension in your group is palpable. Stopping for a chat would be a very bad idea right now.

The first rattling step you hear makes you suck in a breath.

“Is that-”

“yes,” Sans cuts you off. “undyne.”

Your breathing picks up. “What do we do?”

Papyrus looks over his shoulder at the two of you, his voice as quiet as possible. “Keep moving. It isn’t far, now.”

_ Do you think she’s on her way to Alphys’s, too? _ Frisk asks.

No one has an answer for them.

“i wish my phone worked here,” growls sans.

You look at him and raises an eyebrow, which he can thankfully see beneath your hood easily. Your newer model cell phone hasn’t been working well since you fell and the blocky one Toriel gave you was working fine in Snowdin. Not that you really had to use it at all. Voice a whisper you ask Sans, “Why doesn’t your phone work here?

“the signal gets disturbed by the crystals,” he answers just as quietly.

None of you wanted to speak too much for fear that the Captain would overhear you. The brothers had explained that Waterfall had a network of tunnels that were carved out ages ago by rushing water. The largest portions were used for the fields and tiny villages dotted around the region. In some areas the walls were porus enough to hear through. It reminded you of being inside a huge honeycomb as the path started to twist and turn even more. 

A loud greeting cheer makes you jump. Thankfully the sound was still on the other side of a wall but closer than you’d like. The voice definitely says something that sounds like  _ Captain _ . There is no doubt in your mind that you are in a lot of danger right now, if Undyne doesn’t want to listen to the brothers or get tricked by your Delta rune tunics.

Not knowing if you’d be able to make it to the lab in time was making your anxiety rise. You try to control your breathing but the closer you go to Hotland the harder it is in the humidity. Your braid sticks to your neck and back where it fell into your shirt and static electricity sparks around inside of the tunic the faster you all shuffle along. None of you were speaking anymore in case she was nearer than you thought.

When Undyne rounds the corner in front of you there is no mistaking who she is. You’ve never seen her before and didn’t know what to expect, but whatever your assumptions were, she is ten times more intimidating.

She has to be as tall or taller than Papyrus, and he is easily close to seven feet tall. You are barely taller than his elbow, after all. She doesn’t need height to be scary, though.  Her blue skin is almost a camouflage in the half-light of Waterfall. As she moves you can tell they are scales all over her, which match the fin-like frills on either side of her head. It suddenly makes complete sense why she would live in Waterfall.

Once you see her teeth - long, sharklike, and likely deadly - you cannot look away.

If you weren’t frozen stiff with fear at the sight of her you would have bolted like a rabbit as she started to run towards you. The clanking sound you’d dimly heard before was obvious now. Her boots are thin metal, and while she has mostly average clothes on like a tank top and pants, there are pieces of random armor all over her body like some sort of piecemeal RPG character. Her bright red hair sails back and forth in its ponytail behind her head as she jogs over.

“PAPYRUS, dude! How’s the patrol today?” she says as she slides to a stop in front of you. “You even got SANS to come out and patrol with you? Fuh-huh!”

She sounds so friendly and cheerful. The sound doesn’t match your perception of her at all. You can’t stop thinking of all the ways this giantess could crush you. All the anxiety of the past few weeks is coming to a boil beneath your skin.

“H-HELLO, UNDYNE! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU’D BE PATROLLING THIS PART OF WATERFALL TODAY!”

She waves her hand. “Nah, usually don’t, but someone’s kid wandered off and I helped find them. Playing with the echo flowers so it wasn’t too hard to find ‘em.”

You’re actually hoping she doesn’t notice you and Frisk, but your twin does something you really  _ really  _ wish they wouldn’t.

Reaching up to their hood, Frisk lowers it and shakes their head a little to get rid of some of the static. Their smile is wide and hair is wild from being inside of their hood when they lift their hands to speak to Undyne. Their hands are covered in light purple gloves, just like yours, because you had been trying to take every precaution not to touch a monster by accident. Sans said the two of you have enough magic from your Souls no one should be able to tell, but you don’t believe that, since every time you’ve touched him you feel a slight burn at the contact.

_ You’re Undyne! _ Frisk signs.

You could scream. You want them to stop before they accidentally give you guys away. 

“Yeah, and who are you PUNK? Fuh-huh-huh!”

In the blink of an eye Sans is standing in front of you. You’re almost the same height but is wider, so he effectively blocks Undyne’s view of you completely. She’s focused on watching Frisk’s hands but Sans’s movement catches her eye.

“Woah,  _ twins _ , I didn’t know any monsters around here were twins!” she says. Her excitement just makes you more nervous. “And Delta runes? I haven’t seen tunics like these since...”

The moment you’d been holding your breath for starts to blossom on Undyne’s face. Her voice trails off and confusion replaces her excitement. It’s the same sort of slack-jawed response you’d seen on other monsters trying to remember things they shouldn’t. So far only the skeleton brothers, you, and Frisk seemed to be immune to this. 

It’s slow claw across her face at first as she looks back and forth between your group but then it’s like a flip is switched. Her voice is far quieter than it was before. “Papyrus...who are these people?”

There is a sharp tingling starting at the base of your feet as you stand behind Sans. The moment seems frozen as everyone keeps their smiles glued to their faces and waits for the other shoe to drop. The prickles that feel like when your foot falls asleep start to rise from your feet up your legs and further. You don’t know if that’s something you’re just feeling or if it’s something grabbing you, something Undyne is doing, but you don’t dare look away to find out.

You can’t find your voice, but Frisk acts like they aren’t as intimidated as everyone else right now.

_ I’ve heard a lot about you,  _ they sign.  _ Is it true you’re the youngest monster to become Captain of the Royal Guard? _

Undyne’s suspicion doesn’t go away, but she replies, “Youngest in a thousand years or something, yeah. The way you talk is a little funny, punk.”

Oh that lights a fire under your ass immediately.

“Don’t make fun of how they talk!” you say, stepping out from behind Sans. “Just because they don’t use their voice like  _ you _ do doesn’t mean it’s funny!”

Undyne’s teeth show in a wicked smile. “You got spunk, kid, I like that. I don’t care that they use their hands. Your accents are funny. You’re not from around here, are you?”

In your anger you’d stepped forward to stand closest to the Captain. You can smell the salty tang of her breath on your face and she towers over you. Her head is bent to look at you which makes the bright red ponytail flop over her shoulder. 

There’s still tingling in your legs but it’s starting to get harder to walk. It’s not painful like normal pins and needles but something about it feels unsettling and wrong. You try to take a step back and find your legs are locked in place. As soon as you try to move, to turn away, you flip sharply at a ninety degree and feel a tug at your soul.

Darkness of an encounter falls but it only includes you and Undyne. Your soul, normally a purple you’re quickly beginning to love, is a blinding emerald green. 

“Think fast HUMAN!” Undyne calls from her side of the encounter.

You lift your hands automatically and catch a glowing blue spear thrown from Undyne to you. She’s half crouched in a fighting stance, a spear of her own in her hands. Is she going to try to fight you with it like a sword? Your legs are bound!

A few flashes to your left and right distract Undyne for a moment. You see text that reads * **Sans, Frisk, and Papyrus enter, stage left** .

“UNDYNE YOU DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS!” Papyrus says. His voice projects easily to everyone in the encounter. He sounds so upset, you want to reach over and grab his hand, tell him to run even though you know he won’t.

“Papyrus, I’m pretty sure I do!” Undyne yells back.

Everyone is using their *ACT commands so far which is a huge relief, especially since you’re still holding onto a spear that feels like water materialized into a weapon. You get a chance to notice yours and Frisk’s Souls are the only ones showing green in the encounter. All the monsters’ Souls are still upside down and white.

Since everyone else has had their turns, you notice it’s yours. Without speaking since your breathing is still very fast and your legs stiff with Undyne’s magic, you scan through the limited options you have.

* **CHECK** . That might just scare you more to see her stats, and it would be a waste of a turn since you already know her name.

* **PLEAD** . Well, you’ll keep that one in mind.

* **CHALLENGE** . That is pants-wetting levels of terrifying to think about right now so no.

Wait, where was the option to spare her? As scared as you are you know you don’t want to fight. You want to have a chance at making her understand that fighting you and Frisk like this isn’t necessary. And, though you’re sure the brothers can hold their own right now, the idea of these friends getting hurt and maybe ruining their friendship over you makes you very upset.

So, with Frisk and the brothers watching you out of the corner of your eye and Undyne staring you down, you pick the only option you think is right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon typical violence and anxiety.
> 
> Ohhhhhh boy what do you think you decided to choose??? (By the way I had to dig up character charts I made in DECEMBER to make sure I got the height descriptions right in this one!)


	29. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did you choose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

**_Did you seriously use time travel to avoid fighting Undyne? She’s the best part!_ **

You clutch your head as a headache throbs behind your eyes. The voice you remember from the time you died and came back sounds like a kid being told they can’t have any more candy. It hurts too much to open your eyes to take a look at this mysterious figure that seems to live in your head.

“Who are you?” you ask groggily.

**_Boooooooring. That is a boring question. And besides, rude, you didn’t answer mine first!_ **

If you aren’t mistaken, the voice sounds very young and very old at the same time like two people’s voices overlapping. That makes your headache worse. “I did it by accident.”

**_Ugh. Super lame excuse. You know there is no way to avoid facing her at some point, though, right? Especially if you want to save all your little friends_ ** , the voice said, voice spitting out the last bit like it left a bad taste in their mouth.  **_I thought your useless twin would have told you that by now. Haven’t they told you anything?_ **

The voice talked very fast and with a sing-song so you had a hard time keeping up with their babbling about something Frisk knows and friends and they kept saying things like  **_if I had control then_ ** and  **_things really were better when I was the one pulling the strings, so much more fun_ ** . You felt your stomach drop to your feet the way they talk. Combined with the overlap you get more confused by the second.

The sound of blood rushing in your ears starts to drown them out. When you can’t respond to their questions anymore they started to get agitated. Pressure in your head grows and grows until all you can hear is a high pitched whine and the darkness flashing bright white instead.

For the first time since you’d done it, you can remember everything that happened between when you pulled time back and started over again. Sitting up, breathing hard, and blinking rapidly, you get your bearings. After wondering how you did it each and every time you finally have a way to describe the feeling.

In your life and learning class at school in freshman year you’d been introduced to a sewing machine for the first time. Just like the rest of the class you struggled to work with the threads, bobbins, and poked yourself with the needle more than once. A kid at the table next to you actually punctured through the skin on his finger and had to go to the nurse’s office to get bandaged up once you had moved from the machines to hand sewing. You hadn’t thought much about that unit in class since it ended but now it rushed back to the forefront of your mind to help make sense of what is happening inside of your head.

Time to you feels like a long neverending bolt of cloth or thread. When you, admittedly by accident, started pulling on it in a desperate attempt to go back to a safe place you could feel the enormous layer of the universe tugging and folding around you. It never ripped. You don’t think it could rip at all, and you don’t want to find out. The idea makes you shudder.

When you tug on it to work it around you the thread loops back like a stitch. Sure, a stitch can be undone, but there are still tiny holes left in the fabric even if they are almost invisible. What you do is something like undoing a stitch and trying again. The marks are there but only people who know what to look for can see them.

You didn’t go back far. After the fog in your brain from your revelation clears you notice where you are.

Sans, Papyrus, and Frisk are all blinking and looking around them, too. The four of you are sitting around a bench that you’d stopped at to rest and drink water not too long before you met Undyne. A bright yellow gem that matches the shape of the blue ones on the ceiling twinkles on the ground next to your hand. It pulses a little as you brush your hand against it again.

_ A save spot! _ Frisk says, looking in your direction.  _ I never knew that one was there. _

“I DON’T REMEMBER EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED,” Papyrus says.

“Undyne.” “undyne.”

You and Sans look at each other after speaking at the same time. His skull sports a frown and worry creases near his eyes. Everyone is looking at you with the same expression now.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you say quietly. “I panicked when she took us into an encounter.”

“OH DEAR,” Papyrus says, smile turning to a frown. 

“She didn’t hurt us. I didn’t even give her a chance to,” you explain.

_ What about sparing her? _ Frisk asks, moving from the ground to sit by you on the bench. Their hand reaches for yours and you grasp it readily.  _ Was that an option? Do you remember? _

You close your eyes tightly and think. “No, I don’t think so.”

The four of you quietly discuss your options next. You leave out the detail about the voice you think you might have heard. Your memory of that is fading as quickly as you try to recall it, like a dream, so it’s easier to focus on the very real threat of the Captain instead of worrying over a dream.

_ We have to see her sometime. Especially if we’re going to Alphys’s lab. If they’re together, like you said, there’s no way Alphys could keep a secret like that from her. _

Sans shrugs at Frisk’s comment. “she’s pretty good at keepin’ a secret, kid. but you aren’t wrong. we gotta see undyne sooner or later.”

Three pairs of eyes look at you. You recoil back a little in shame. “I’ll try not to shift unless I have to,” you quietly promise.

Papyrus picks you up, literally, into a hug against his chest. “YOU CAN DO IT, FRIEND. I BELIEVE IN YOU!”

“yeah, kid,” Sans adds. “we all do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : A voice inside your head.
> 
> So, you chose to pick none of your options and decided to just bend time! You sneaky devil. Wonder who that is whispering in your ear, though...
> 
> You ready for round 2???


	30. Don't Speak Too Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's try something different with Undyne now, shall we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

This time when your group walks through Waterfall the skeletons don’t actively try to avoid Undyne. You had all agreed that one of the reasons she was instantly suspicious was probably since Papyrus and Sans were off the beaten path, obviously avoiding her. Though you felt incredibly exposed on the main roads of Waterfall, and you missed the sight of the beautiful fields of crops, at least your shoes and socks weren’t getting slightly wet anymore.

You stick close to Sans with Papyrus and Frisk walking in front of you two again. It’s a nice pattern and being nearer to him makes you feel safe. Not that Papyrus couldn’t protect you, but you remember Sans’s stats. You know he only has one attack point and one defense. That shouldn’t spell protection to you. You ignore the logic and go with your gut, though. Sans has already surprised you enough times and you have a feeling that there is more to this skeleton than meets the eye.

“how you feelin’?” Sans asks as you walk over a flower bridge.

You lightly grasp his elbow for balance on the walk over and let go when you’re across. The air here is a lot more humid and you want to drop your hood. “It’s getting harder to breathe, honestly. This humidity is killer. Does that mean we’re close?”

Sans had looked alarmed for a second when you said you couldn’t breathe but relaxes at the explanation. “yeah. surprised we haven’t seen undyne yet.”

“NERDS!”

“oh, shit.”

If Sans weren’t already bone-white you’re sure that the Captain’s yelling would have made him pale in surprise. Undyne runs towards your group with her teeth in her sharp grin, skidding to a halt in front of Papyrus and catching him in a hug. She’s able to lift him up and trap his arms at his sides.

“How the heck are you guys?” she exclaims, putting Papyrus down. “I didn’t expect you in Waterfall today, Sans!”

“just  _ wading  _ through while my bro works,” Sans says.

It’s amazing how calm he can seem on the outside. Out of instinct you’d reached out for his arm again. Usually you grab Frisk but they were too far away at the moment. Beneath your hand the heat you always feel from him is accompanied by a slight buzzing pressure, like the feeling of holding onto a garden hose with water moving through it, a barely noticeable difference but one you can feel nonetheless. 

“Tch, you and your jokes,” Undyne says. Her hands on her hips, she leans down to Frisk’s level. “Yo, what’s up, I’m Undyne!”

Frisk mimics her pose and grins broadly.  _ Dude, you’re Undyne! You’re awesome! My name’s Frisk! _

“_______,” you add softly. You raise your hand not attached to Sans’s arm in a little wave.

“Anyone that’s a friend of Papyrus is a friend of MINE!” the Captain declares loudly. She takes to Frisk’s way of speaking a hell of a lot better than she did before. You do notice, however, that Frisk isn’t speaking quite as much to avoid using slang that doesn’t make sense. “Where are you guys from, anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Your tunics look really familiar, actually.”

With her smile rapidly turning into a frown, you think fast and say, “Yeah, we saw the symbol in a history book and our mom made them for us.”

Frisk looks at you for a second because of your explanation. It isn’t a lie, but you think they’re more focused on you calling Toriel ‘Mom’ like they did back in the ruins. You don’t know if Undyne buys it or not but she doesn’t make you explain further. You breathe a sigh of relief for that.

“You guys need to come over to visit again soon,” Undyne says after talking to Papyrus about Royal Guard related duties. She mentioned the child that wandered off to listen to echo flowers again, so you figured when you went back not too much changed. “And you should bring your friends! Alphys LOVES showing people our anime collection!”

_ Anime _ ?

Undyne’s ponytail whips around as she turns to Frisk. “You don’t know ANIME? It’s human history, sort of, and it’s AWESOME!”

_ Dude, I love anime, I’m just so excited that you have it! _ Frisk says enthusiastically.

And there it is. The key to getting Undyne distracted enough that you all keep moving closer to Hotland until you reach a long stretch of tunnel with a light glow at the end. This part of Waterfall is far hotter, and far less humid, than where you were before. The dry heat is even starting to clear up some of the sweat that clung to your skin. Your hair starts to curl a little but you don’t mind, it’s better than it sticking to your skin. 

As much as you are enjoying this it is obvious that Undyne is not.

Taking one of the water bottles your group didn’t drink from Frisk, Undyne unceremoniously dumps half of it over her head and the other half into her mouth. “Dude, give me a call or send a message when you can hang out. Gotta meet at mine, though. Hotland is a bitch lately.”

“THE HEAT FEELS NICE ON MY BONES, BUT I KNOW THIS IS NOT GREAT FOR YOU, MY FRIEND,” Papyrus says. He rests one of his gloved hands on her forehead. You don’t know how he can check her temperature with that layer between them but he seems to get the answer he wants. “RETURN WHERE IT IS SAFE FOR YOU.”

“Thanks, Papyrus,” Undyne says, throwing a friendly punch on Papyrus’s shoulder.

She gets a shrewd look in her eyes and Papyrus springs back immediately. “DO NOT NOOGIE THE SKELETON!”

“Fuh-huh-huh, nah. Too hot for that. Say, drop by my place on your way home, will ya? It’s been way too long since we got to train. Dude, BRING YOUR FRIENDS! I wanna see what they GOT!”

A bucket of ice coats your stomach at the suggestion but you try your best not to react. Frisk, however, punches the air and then starts signing rapidly along with their mind-speak.

_ Hell yeah, that sounds AWESOME! _

“You better bring your A-game, PUNK!” Undyne says. With a wave over her shoulder, she turns and starts to walk back into the cooler darkness of Waterfall.

Once she’s out of earshot, around a corner and out of sight, Papyrus exclaims, “WELL, THAT WENT MUCH BETTER THAN EXPECTED!”

You can’t agree more. “What was different this time? Why didn’t she attack immediately?”

_ I don’t know but I’ll take it _ , Frisk says. Their voice is a lot more solemn now that they aren’t trying to match Undyne’s intensity.  _ She must not have pegged us for humans right away...or something? Still, I’d rather it have gone like that than anything. _

“Same,” you say, letting out a sigh. “Much better than expected, for sure.”

“you guys ready to get moving? if we stand in one place much longer we’ll find out if skeletons melt.”

\--

Skeleton monsters do not, in fact, melt. Sans just needs to get away from the border between Hotland and Waterfall as quickly as possible. Something doesn’t seem right about how easygoing Undyne was with the twins. He hates to go to the worst situation possible every time but he learned a long time ago not to take good things completely for granted. That never works out well for him.

“ALPHYS’S LAB IS JUST UP THIS WAY. WE’RE ALMOST THERE!” 

Papyrus leads the way and Sans easily takes the spot at the end. The paths here are wider than they are in Waterfall but a fall for anyone would result in more than a few bumps and wet socks - the worst - and he wants to be ready with blue magic.

_ It took a while to get here, are we going to have to stay in Hotland overnight _ ? Frisk asks.  _ Actually, why didn’t you use a shortcut for this, Sans _ ?

He tries not to roll his eyelights. “it ain’t that easy, kid. takes a lot of energy to do that just for me.”

_ So it was worth the risk of Undyne _ ?

The last question was obviously directed just at him. Frisk didn’t use sign language at all and their voice didn’t echo like it does when they talk to the whole group. His hands clack as he signs back to Frisk but you and Papyrus are just ahead enough that you do not notice the sound.

* _ yes. you and i both remember this place has a pattern. changing too much could be really bad. _

_ Then what was that back there when she loaded? _

_ *kid, she doesn’t load like you used to. it doesn’t feel the same, does it? _

Frisk folds their arms and shoves their hands under their armpits and scowls at the ground, kicking a few rocks with their foot. They shake their head and say, quietly,  _ No. _

“C’MON YOU LAZYBONES!”

Sans and Frisk both turn with slightly guilty expressions and move to keep up with you and Papyrus. Your hands are holding the straps of your knapsack with a white knuckle grip and Sans realizes maybe you aren’t as okay as you said you were before. It makes him feel bad for not noticing. Keeping you calm seems to be the best way to not those shifts happen in the first place so he puts on a soft, cheesy grin and catches up.

“just stopping to smell the fireflowers, bro,” he says when they catch up.

“I CAN SEE THAT. LOOK!” Papyrus points towards the end of the path where what looks like a wall at first glance is in sight. “THAT’S THE LAB, WE’RE ALMOST THERE!”

“Woah,” you say quietly. “That place is enormous.”

_ It’s different, _ Frisk comments.  _ What happened to the other one? _

“the amalgamations,” Sans says to explain. When Frisk looks back at him in shock and horror, he holds up his hands and adds more. “woah, no it’s still there but alphys let them have it as their new home. they got kind of attached.”

Sans can see Frisk has more questions about that. He doesn’t know how many timelines Frisk accidentally found the True Lab or if it was just the once. All that matters is something happened between them finding it and this current trip to the Underground. He wishes the kid would talk to him about it but if he’s honest with himself he isn’t sure he wants to hear another recount of another genocidal maniac route. So far they’ve been good and he just wants to focus on that.

As he’s lost in his own thoughts they reach the lab and Papyrus knocks on the door. “HELLO, FRIEND!”

There’s some shuffling without an answer before the door lock thunks open. Unlocked, the door swings open slightly. Inside its pitch dark except for a few blinking lights. This is normal, from what Sans knows, since the machines generate an enormous amount of heat and keeping the overhead lights on just makes it worse. But...there’s something off about it this time.

You act like you feel it, too. So do Frisk and Papyrus. The four of you look at each other before Frisk takes the first step in, projecting their voice inside and calling Alphys’s name mentally.

The moment the darkness inside swallows them Sans’s eye starts to flash yellow and cyan magic without him consciously doing it. There’s the sound of a scuffle and a muffled yell and he’s inside after them. He and Papyrus hold glowing blue bones at the ready that provide just enough light in the room for him to see Frisk held in Undyne’s arms with one of her spears stuck in the ground of the lab, their backpack stabbed through by the magic.

“No!” you scream behind him, but he throws up his free arm to keep you from coming all the way inside. You fight him a bit but he’s able to push you towards his brother who has more strength and focus to keep you protected.

He lets his face curl into a pinched smile, trying to hide how on edge he is, and says, “i thought something felt  _ fishy _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon typical violence.
> 
> This chapter had a mind of its own and was like you know what you thought this was going to be? Yeah no forget that write this instead. Boom. There ya go.


	31. Take Me Instead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soul for a soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

You’re having a hard time keeping your breathing steady.

Frisk is pinned to Undyne’s chest, the flashing yellow and red lights from a monitor on the wall casting angry colors across her blue scales and your twin’s face. Papyrus holds you back behind him. In each of his hands there are a series of different sized cyan bones fanned between his fingers. There are beads of magical sweat curling down his skull that you can see from here and his smile is completely gone.

Sans, however, sports a menacing smile. A single bone shaped projectile floats above his head pointed at Undyne like one of her spears. The magic vibrates slightly in the air and whines quietly like a neon sign.

The darkness of the room makes your eyes hurt as you try to take everything in. It’s sort of like an encounter but no one has actually started one yet. As dark as it is, you can still see your physical body and the monsters aren’t bright white. You can feel your Soul straining in your chest like it wants to start an encounter, though. As much as you are afraid of what Undyne might do to Frisk you don’t want to instigate her any more than she already is. 

It’s all torture, plain and simple.

“Not a word,” Undyne growls at Sans. “No shitty puns. You think I didn’t know these things were  _ humans _ the minute I saw you two?”

“UNDYNE-”

“And you, Paps? Are you seriously protecting these humans?” Undyne’s teeth are bared and her words force their way out tightly.

“BUT UNDYNE, PLEASE. THEY WANT TO HELP!”

“Tch,” she scoffs, moving her arm so Frisk is pinned better against her. It’s an odd angle, most of Frisk’s body above her chest supposedly protecting her Soul, and her legs and arms twisting around to lock them to her. “If you wanted to HELP you would have brought them straight to me! Or the King! DO YOU REALIZE what this means for the Underground? We can be FREE finally!”

“where’s alphys?” Sans demands.

“None of your damned BUSINESS!” Undyne yells back at him. “She’s safe from these humans! And so will the rest of the Underground after I take care of these murderers!”

You hold up your hands and try to stop the tears stinging in your eyes. In a swift push you step out in front of Papyrus and Sans, ignoring the way they say your name and ask you to come back.

“We’re not murderers,” you say, choking a bit on your suppressed tears. You remember what you learned studying with Sans in the lab. There is one surefire way to prove to her that you haven’t hurt or killed anyone. “Check my stats, please! We’re not murderers!”

Undyne doesn’t loosen her grip but watches you slowly with the eye not covered by a patch. She had flinched a bit when you moved but as you stay still and at a distance from her, she looks like she might listen to you. It reminds you of the time you and Frisk were walking home from school years ago and you saw a wild fox with a small animal in its mouth. You two had surprised it and it immediately went on the defensive to protect its dinner. Undyne looks just as ready to attack if you make the wrong move. She narrows her eyes at you before looking behind you at the skeleton monsters.

“Step in and I skewer them immediately,” Undyne snaps before pulling you and Frisk into an encounter with her. 

The skeleton brother’s voices start to rise in protest but are silenced the next moment as consuming darkness falls. Even though their physical body is still very much connected to Undyne, Frisk’s soul is on your side of the encounter. Purple light floats next to bright red and you wish it wasn’t just their soul nearby.

This time the options, or rather ‘option’, in the heads up display is different. You bite your lip and force your trembling hand down onto * **ACT.**

“Check us, please,” you whisper. “I don’t know what else to do to prove to you that-”

A sharp snap against your Soul and your chest silences you. It fucking  _ hurts _ . Like a rubber band snapped against your arm times a hundred. You don’t lose any HP but the intent behind Undyne’s * **CHECK** command is blatantly clear. She doesn’t trust you and is not going to be gentle.

Since so much about magic and monsters is about intent, you try really hard not to react to her instigation. It’s difficult because you want to tell her off for making assumptions and hurting Frisk and not trusting her friends that she’s known for years.

Undyne is silent. You know she can see Frisk’s stats because they hover just outside of your vision for a solid, quiet minute as she takes them in.

**Frisk. LV 1. HP 25/20. AT 0. DEF 5. EXP 0.**

“We aren’t murderers. We want to help,” you whisper quietly, hand on the  ***ACT** button. 

You hope you didn’t just waste a turn. Frisk isn’t able to take a turn since it comes up that ‘ _ their hands are tied _ ’ when the opportunity comes around. Numbers float next to your head and you can tell she’s checking you next. 

**________. LV 1̡̛͎͔̦̞͍͓̣͙̈́̊͆̿̎̕. HP 25/20. AT E̷̥͖̟̯̭̭̦̮͋̑̌̆͗͟͠R̦̬̰̯̫̾̈́̍̀͊̇̇̎̿͡R̶̡̛̫͚̥̪͉̯̋̏̈́̏͌͢O̷̡̙̱͈̩̱̻͉̔̀͗͒̆R̸̛̼̩̯̥̺͗̈̈͑̒̃͋̐͝. DEF E̷̥͖̟̯̭̭̦̮͋̑̌̆͗͟͠R̦̬̰̯̫̾̈́̍̀͊̇̇̎̿͡R̶̡̛̫͚̥̪͉̯̋̏̈́̏͌͢O̷̡̙̱͈̩̱̻͉̔̀͗͒̆R̸̛̼̩̯̥̺͗̈̈͑̒̃͋̐͝. EXP E̷̥͖̟̯̭̭̦̮͋̑̌̆͗͟͠R̦̬̰̯̫̾̈́̍̀͊̇̇̎̿͡R̶̡̛̫͚̥̪͉̯̋̏̈́̏͌͢O̷̡̙̱͈̩̱̻͉̔̀͗͒̆R̸̛̼̩̯̥̺͗̈̈͑̒̃͋̐͝.**

You blink and can feel your physical hands lift to try and clear your eyes, but that doesn’t have any effect here. In an encounter you can see perfectly fine even if what you’re seeing makes no sense.

“What the FUCK!” Undyne snaps. She sounds even angrier than before. “What the FUCK are those stats, human?”

You’re shaking. Water must be filling your ears because Undyne sounds very far away and muffled the longer she tries to yell. The red soul next to you starts to move around frantically, trying to get closer to yours. The encounter is stuck on your turn and you don’t know what to do.

Frisk is screaming something. It isn’t echoing like Undyne. Are they just speaking to you somehow through your souls in here? 

_ Chara! What are you doing? Leave her alone! _

Uneasiness boils in your stomach. You know that name. Why do you know that name? You feel like you don’t have control.

The tension snaps, the bubble of confusion consuming you bursting into thousands of tiny invisible pieces. There’s still a lingering uncertainty over what exactly just happens that takes longer to fade away. Frisk broke away from Undyne and not only is their soul next to yours, their body is too, and their hands are on your shoulders. You do all you can to focus on their voice. Your ears are ringing.

_ Focus. Stand behind me. We can do this. _

Around their soul is a shimmer of green and a spear floating in what looks like midair. Frisk moves to stand in front of you to face Undyne.

_ Alphys needs to test her, Undyne,  _ they say across the black expanse to the seething mad monster.  _ She isn’t dangerous. _

What? Of course you aren’t dangerous! The numbers were just messed up, that’s all!

“I won’t let you hurt her!” Undyne screams. “I won’t let you hurt anyone!”

A volley of tiny spears flies across the expanse towards you both but Frisk does their best blocking them. They can’t move to dodge, but you can, so you avoid all but the tiniest scratches. A driving beat of music you can only just hear runs in the back of your head and raises your heart rate.

_ Undyne - woah - we’re going to help you guys get out of here! _

“Then give up-” she huffs in exertion as she starts more complicated patterns “-and let me take your souls to Asgore!”

You’re fighting the tightening in your gut that you think means you’re trying to move time around. It hurts to not let it do what it wants, to unravel the tension inside of you that feels like a cramp after running too hard for too long, but you don’t want to give up. The more you wait the more it feels like it’s tearing you in two.

“Undyne!” you yell across the encounter.

She snarls when you address her and you gulp. You push forward and can feel Frisk’s eyes on you, but they let you continue. Though you have no idea what you’re really going to do or if you can defuse this you’re sure as hell not going to let Frisk stand there, protect you, while you do nothing.

Squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate, that music still driving in the background, you do your best to project to only Undyne so Frisk can’t hear you. This isn’t something you’ve done before so you don’t know whether it worked or not right away.

“Take me. Use me as a bargaining chip.”

Undyne holds a line of miniature spears in the air above her head. They vibrate like Sans’s bone projectile was before. You wonder if the skeleton brothers can hear anything going on or if they’re trying to get into the encounter. She holds and stares at you, teeth bared, but she’s thinking. She isn’t instantly trying to pepper you with spears. You count that as a small victory at least. 

“You’re serious?” Undyne snaps. She doesn’t sound convinced but there is a hint of hesitation to her tone and you grab onto it like a lifeline.

“Yes I’m...serious.” You thought about saying ‘dead serious’ but that didn’t feel appropriate halfway through the comment. Frisk is frantically trying to get your attention but the green magic around their soul keeps them in place. “Take me as a prisoner or whatever you need to do. Let Frisk and the brothers go.”

Undyne stands and hesitates for a long, bated breath. You hope she takes your offer. You can’t think of any other advantage you might have against her. The last thing you want to do is prove her right and force Frisk to go on the offensive, or even you, though you don’t know if you could just attack someone even if they are threatening you. You start to get more hopeful the longer she hesitates.

“Fuh. Fine.” Her largest spear swings in an enormous arc in front of her to break apart the tiny spears she’d conjured.

_ What’s going on? _

Leaving Frisk out like this makes you wince. They aren’t going to be happy. Damn, neither are the brothers. Too late for that now. 

Like your ears popping, you feel something change suddenly and take the chance to glance down at the display options available to you.

* **SURRENDER** .

Your hand flies to the option without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Canon typical violence.
> 
> ( ͡◉ ͜ʖ ͡◉) felt nice to finally use that text lemme tell ya heheheheheheheheh ┬┴┤( ͡⚆ل͜├┬┴┬


	32. Hostage to Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hostage to fortune: [idiom/phrase] an act, commitment, or remark that is regarded as unwise because it invites trouble or could prove difficult to live up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

Sans is upset when the three of you leave the encounter.

Scratch that. Make that  _ pissed _ .

The entire time you were out of his sight, your physical forms were hard to follow while in the middle of an encounter. He had done all he could to keep the thin barrier between this world and the void from opening and letting a blaster out. That was no easy task. The blasters have a mind of their own and could easily tell he and the people he cares about were in turmoil.

He had paced back and forth, his phone to his ear to try and call Alphys. Hell, he even had Papyrus call Mettaton. The robot wouldn’t answer San’s call even though his phone is built into his chassis. But the bucket of bolts would pick up for his brother on the first ring. He had but Mettaton wouldn’t be able to get to the lab for several minutes at least since he was on the other side of Hotland. All Sans could think at the time was “ _ that’s not good enough” _ and had tried to keep his temper.

Alphys came running from the underground laboratories as fast as she could but still barely arrived thirty seconds before the encounter ended. Apparently Undyne had locked the elevator to keep her downstairs and she had to take ten flights of stairs up. Sans could have teleported her up if he knew that. But on the other hand he didn’t want to leave in case the encounter broke and you - or Frisk -  needed him.

Gasping for breath, Alphys had rushed over to Sans as he started to explain what was happening. The longer he had talked the angrier he was. Admitting to himself that he let his guard down around Undyne was doing nothing to help his mood.

“S-so they’re all in there, right?” Alphys had asked, pointing one clawed finger towards the hazy cloud of the encounter. “The humans you told, you uh, you told me about and Undyne?”

Sans had nodded sharply. His hands shook from the effort of holding his bone attacks back and keeping the blasters in the void. No one knows about those except Papyrus and maybe Frisk, and he wants to keep it that way. If anyone put two and two together...well, the King might have words for the two remaining skeleton brothers about why at least one of them could call on the beings only the former Royal Scientist could. Doctor Gaster still has a little control over him from the Void after all.

Alphys opens her mouth to speak when the cloud of the encounter falls. Sans makes a move to step towards you and pull you towards him with blue magic. Assumptions of other people be damned. They could make conclusions all they wanted. But there is no way he would be able to get close to you even with magic on his side. Not with Undyne’s hand gripping your shoulder like that.

Sans feels like all the air was gone from the room. The blasters stopped biting at the edges of reality, waiting anxiously for their master to make a move.

Your soul is a bright green, like acid or like it’s surrounded by a neon beacon. Seeing it outside of your chest like that even covered by Undyne’s magic sends his magical core pressure through the roof. If he were a human he could have burst a blood vessel in his eye.

Papyrus goes to Frisk to check them over, though they look fine. Frisk is able to move away from Undyne on their own and he realizes very slowly what you’ve done. You traded yourself.

He can’t accept it yet. Checking your souls without making it obvious as only he can, Sans makes sure you both have good amounts of HP. You do, but there’s a heavy weight blocking the rest of your information from him. His eyelights start to cross the longer he tries. He stops before what he’s doing becomes too obvious, though he has a feeling you know exactly what he is up to.

You won’t meet his gaze at first. You stand as if you’re a rag doll and the only thing keeping you upright is Undyne’s grip and magic. Maybe it is. 

Though he can’t tell the full story with the little he has it’s obvious enough to him that you did something potentially very, very dangerous. The assumption he made immediately after seeing you taunts him. His fingers ache with how hard he’s making fists at his sides. The bone attacks he’s maintaining vibrate faster. The encounter might be over but he will not stand down. Not yet. Not until he’s sure you’re safe.

He hates himself for wishing you had folded reality again instead of dealing with this outcome instead.

\----

You’re exhausted after that encounter. Stopping the reaction of folding back time is difficult to say the least. There aren’t many things you can think of to compare it to except the idea that you were going against your very nature, though before the Underground you’d never had this power at all. You’re still not sure you made the right decision there and your gut isn’t much help. It churns and boils inside of you as if you’d just run too fast for too long and you want to throw up.

Pinching your eyes shut so you can hold it down you miss the first bit of information around you after Undyne ends the encounter. You miss how Papyrus easily picks up Frisk and checks them over even as they squirm and try to get over to you. You miss Alphys’s hands clamped firmly over the end of her snout in shock. You even miss how your soul is still out and wrapped in startlingly green magic, though the back of your mind is aware that’s the only thing keeping you upright. 

Slowly lifting your head, you  _ don’t  _ miss the way Sans is looking at you and Undyne. 

His left eye is flashing blue and gold in syncopated patterns too fast for you to follow and the bones he’d had before you surrendered are still there. Beads of magical sweat curl down the sides of his skull. You want to smooth those away and tell him it will be okay, that he’s safe, Undyne got what she wanted.

You know that wouldn’t calm him down at all.

“This one isn’t going to leave my sight,” Undyne growls before anyone can speak.

“I need to run tests U-Undyne,” Alphys starts to say.

With no small amount of bite in her voice, Undyne turns to her with a hard stare that threatens to crack and says, “You sure as hell do, but Alphy we can talk about this  _ later _ .”

“let her run the tests now, undyne,” sans spits out.

“YOU don’t give the orders around here, you washed up bag of bones!” Undyne barks at him. “I’m the Captain and don’t you forget it.”

Her grip is stronger on your shoulder and you wince a bit in pain. A blue blur streaks past your vision and buries itself in the wall ten feet behind you, a wall made of solid rock. It’s one of Sans’s bone attacks that he lost control of when he saw your look of pain.

“hands off her,” he says slowly.

“Sans, stop,” you say weakly. Your mouth is very dry and acid from your churning gut cuts into your throat the longer you try to hold down the contents of your stomach. “Don’t attack anyone, please.”

Frisk is still struggling against Papyrus in the background. 

Sans looks torn, wanting to pull you away and also trying to listen to you. “are you hurt?”

You shake your head slowly so you don’t get queasier. You burp a little and cringe at the taste. At least it’s getting better, just slowly. Acid reflux. Sans doesn’t seem convinced at your weak display so you say, “Just a little sick to my stomach. Promise.”

The word makes him loosen up slightly. The pained look remains. It’s difficult to look at him like this, as if the pain he’s feeling you can empathetically feel, too. He stays in the same position, body positioned in an offensive pose meant to intimidate. It forces you to look away for a moment and your gaze lands on Papyrus which does nothing to help you.

Suddenly you remember you promised Papyrus he wouldn’t lose you. Well. You’d gone and fucked up that, too, it seems. You try to ignore your guilt.

“You said you’d let Alphys try,” you say. The words sound whiny and weak but you don’t back down.

Undyne rolls the eye not hidden behind an eyepatch. “I know. Four hours is all you get and then the king will know you’re here. Then you have to come with me.

Alphys looks shocked at your discussion. Sans and Papyrus mirror her expression, everyone glancing between the two of you waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Before the encounter fell, after you surrendered, you and Undyne had a few brief moments just the two of you. As she encased your soul in her bright green magic and you tried to not think of how stupid this probably was you made a last ditch attempt to save the situation.

“I’m not going to try to run away,” you had said to her, making sure your voice was as sincere and nonthreatening as possible, “but we came here for Alphys to check our souls, to make sure they’d work on the barrier.”

Undyne had looked at you with a distrusting eye. Her voice had been brusque and clipped. “Does that have anything to do with your messed up stats?”

You hadn’t had an answer for that, but with a sneer she told you it would take some time for her message to make it to the castle anyway. The phone lines were down again and she would have to get a courier.

Alphys recovers quickly and starts yammering quickly about getting them down to the labs. She does take a second to pass a glare at Undyne for locking the elevator as your group waits for it to come back up.

You feel the dry brush of warm bones on your arm that sends a hot streak of lightning in your veins before it pulls away again. Sans. He took his gloves off, it seems, and made sure he was as close to you as possible while your group waited. You tried not to react but it was a shock to your system and Undyne threw a threatening look over her shoulder when you twitched in her grip.

“Back off, bone boy,” she said to him. “You three can take the next ride down, or walk.”

All you could do is try to apologize with your eyes when you, Undyne, and Alphys went into the elevator and faced the others. Well, Undyne almost frog-marched you since you still don’t feel steady on your feet. Whatever Sans did when he touched you made you feel a little better but looking at their faces doesn't help your psyche one bit.

Three worried and agitated faces watch you as the doors slide shut smoothly, blocking you from them until they reach the lab, too, a quarter mile even further down into the earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : Sans is smad and you disappointed Papyrus.
> 
> Yes, disappointing Paps deserves to be a trigger warning, because you might have done fucked up. Maybe not though...those tests _are_ going to happen, after all.
> 
> What do you think Alphys will find with those "messed up stats" of yours??


	33. Second Chance at a First Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet again, though you can't really remember the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

The ride down is more or less the most awkward moment of your life so far. 

No one will look at each other and you can feel the tension between the monsters mounting. It feels just like the moments before you’ve seen your foster parents fight about something. Not nice. In the silence you try to keep your breathing steady and close your eyes. It helps your queasiness start to go away. The dark behind your eyelids feels nice.

**_Give me the keys, friend_ ** , says a very interesting and persuasive voice in your head. It’s like they’ve always been at the edges of your mind. They’re louder now that you have your eyes closed.  **_Let me drive for a bit. I’ll make sure everything is just fine._ **

Your eyes snap open to see who’s speaking. It didn’t sound like either of the monsters next to you. Their lips are both pinched closed. Unless they’re very good ventriloquists or were using magic, neither of them had spoken.

_ What the fuck _ you think to yourself.

**_We have met, you know_ ** . The voice sounds like it's frowning now.

_ I think I would remember a voice in my head _ ? 

**_Tch. I’m not in your head, you brainless…_ ** the voice stops its insults and calms its voice down. You feel like you’re being toyed with.  **_Sorry. Mother says I get tetchy when I’m hungry and I haven’t eaten in a few years._ **

It’s strange. You do and don’t recognize this voice. It’s like hearing the voice of a character from a game or show you haven’t watched in forever and trying to place where you’ve heard it before. But it’s not a recorded line or someone speaking. It’s happening inside your head.

_ What the fuck is going on? _

You hear a sigh of sorts. You feel like you’re being mocked. It makes it harder to keep your cool on the outside. 

**_I guess it won’t hurt to tell you now since you won’t remember this when I leave anyway._ **

That catches you off guard. Your eyebrows fly up and you clench your teeth. The floors are melting away as you go down into the lab, but this conversation feels as though it’s happening in a different time, a totally different set of rules. You close your eyes to concentrate.

_ Who are you, then? _

**_Pfft. Closing your eyes won’t help you remember this later, idiot._ ** You grimace and they giggle, a very unsettling noise.  **_Does slow down the outside time though, so keep them closed! I’m one of the first children to fall down here many many MANY years ago, okay? Well, I’m the first one to survive the fall._ **

_ Only mages - _

**_Yeah, yeah only mages survive the fall, good memory, please shut UP. My name was Chara back then. I picked it myself. Do you like it?_ **

You’re caught off guard with the question after being told in no uncertain terms to keep your thoughts to yourself. You start to answer but they don’t seem to care, starting another tirade. Something in their voice sends chills down your spine. You can’t tell how old they are. Your idea keeps fluctuating based on their behavior. Their last question reminded you of the tiny five year old girl you used to be fostered with who had endless questions like that.

**_So I fell, Toriel found me, did the same kind of things with me. So you’re not special. Neither is Frisk!_ ** Venom drips from every word but they attempt to compose themselves.  **_And after I died their son, the prince, made the mistake of trying to take me back to the humans. He got himself killed for it the IDIOT. Now dad thinks the only way to get out of here for good is to break the barrier with more human SOULs._ **

There is a slight pause and you try to ask  _ Is he right? _

**_Tch. There isn’t time to talk about that. We’ll be in the lab soon. Let me take over_ ** . There are layers of persuasion folded into every word.

You get the feeling they were trying to distract you enough to take control. You decide to play dumb. 

... _ What do you mean, take over? And you really didn’t tell me anything, nothing useful! _

The voice gets more impatient.  **_Stop asking dumb questions and let me use the body!_ **

_ No! _

Every instinct inside moves you to reject the annoyed and pushy voice in your head. They certainly don’t agree, and to your horror you feel a pressure in your arms and legs like the feeling just before the tingles that tell you the muscles ‘fell asleep’. It’s like a ghost is trying to pick up your arms and move them but isn’t quite strong enough. Your breathing speeds up and your eyes flick between the monsters in the elevator with you and see if they notice anything. They don’t.

_ Quit it, you’re going to make me piss off Undyne! _ You say.  _ This isn’t funny. _

As if they were truly exerting effort physically, the voice now sounds out of breath. Tired.  **_Fine. Have it your way. But if you need help? Don’t come crawling back to me!_ **

Your head is your own once again. The moment the voice wanders off, the awareness of its existence starts to fade. By the time the doors of the elevator open again, the memory is another thing pushed to the back of your mind, something to deal with later. Later, that is, when you aren’t facing what could be a very bad time.

No matter the outcome, you will face it with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : A determined freak tries to fuck with you!
> 
> Chara you're a little shit. Information tease.


	34. The Q-CORDIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the title drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the Q-CORDIS [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/7mgwcmVvT1xaxAWetykOJo).  
> Check out the Q-CORDIS [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/q-cordis/).

You figure that there must be something magical keeping you from getting crushed or fried alive at this depth. You remember how far down the fall was when you first arrived. Now that you’ve been in the Underground for months, though, you have no idea if you’ve gone deeper or into shallower caves since arriving. Thinking about that makes you shudder and Undyne looks down at you, her hand still gripped on your arm. She lifts an eyebrow but says nothing.

No matter the answer, Alphys’s lab is a good deal further below that, drilled into the bedrock of the earth. You have seen plenty of sci-fi movies with your sibling back on the surface and remember what happens to the scientists that went this far down without protection. Not pretty.

Undyne keeps you near her like a shadow. She mostly holds you with magic, but there’s still that grip on your upper arm. The tunic blocks you from touching skin on scale, though. You’re glad for that since you still aren’t sure if the odd touch thing between you and Sans is _just_ between you two or if it’s across monsterkind. You’re not ready to find out just yet.

A long corridor greets you when the elevator doors open. At the end, an impressive laboratory greets you through sliding glass doors. Your eyes widen as far as they can to take in the enormous and futuristic contraptions around the room. Pipes line the ceiling from as small around as your little finger to big enough for Papyrus to stand up inside of them. Some are made of glass, or metal, or some other shiny material that’s probably plastic. Most loop around overhead and go through the walls or the ceiling. Most of the plastic ones with what you assume is water lead towards the back in a single direction.

You remember being impressed by San’s lab but this is a whole other ballgame now. You thought stuff like this only existed in those sci-fi movies and shows in the far distant future. Or maybe the government. There’s no way you would have imagined this without seeing it for yourself. There are workstations for dozens of people to be here plucking away at keyboards and lab instruments but it’s just your group. It gives the area a distinctly creepy vibe. You wonder if all the workers are off for the day or Alphys told them not to come in, expecting two humans to arrive.

One station catches your eye. A large model of the solar system sits in the corner on top of stacks of paper. It doesn’t look like it’s been used in months. Maybe years? You can’t read the nameplate from here but it’s just one word. You can assume whose desk that is...or was.

As if on cue, the skeleton you were just thinking about appears from the stone corridor you’d just come from, Papyrus and Frisk not far behind him. You suspect a shortcut was made since no one looks like they just ran down all those stairs and the elevator didn’t move that fast.

“It’s over here,” Alphys says.

The yellow monster doesn’t look surprised that Sans shortcutted down but Undyne reacts by squeezing your arm a bit. While it doesn’t hurt it reminds you that she has a grip on you.

Alphys leads the way towards a corner of the room you can’t see from the entrance. The entire lab is like a huge square with a hole cut in the middle, like an enormous donut. Walls of pristinely clean glass surround the center that shows an even lower level to this place, though not as shiny or futuristic. You can see the faint glow of lava way down in the middle.

But, as you round the corner you can see the far portion of the lab open up. A large rectangular frame is set up along a wall with nothing inside. As if it were an enormous television with the screen taken out you can see dials and lights on the bottom corners. Undyne or Papyrus would fit inside it easily. Their arms probably wouldn’t even touch the sides or top without a little jump. Your mind races with what it could possibly be.

“Undyne you need to, uh, you need to let her go,” Alphys says, barely making eye contact with you and choosing to look at Undyne instead. Her hands fretfully twist together but she stands firm.

“Are you serious?” the Captain asks. Her teeth are hidden behind a deep frown. “No way, what if she escapes?”

“I gave you my word,” you snap testily.

The moment the words leave your mouth your hands fly up to cover it. You don’t know where that outburst came from. So far you’ve tried to be as cautious and complacent as you can to keep Undyne happy. Trying to think of why you did that makes your brain itch so you try to roll with it. Deflating your shoulders you don’t cower to Undyne but you don’t back down, taking a cue from Alphys.

“Any funny business and it’s straight to Asgore,” Undyne says. “Got it?”

You nod, waiting for her to let go. You secretly feel a cloud of relief she didn’t act more angrily towards you. She takes another second to do release your arm. Once you’re free, in a sense, you face Alphys.

“What do I need to do?”

You’re aware you have an audience. Sans, Papyrus, and Frisk have all stayed a short distance away from you but remain close. Looking at them wouldn’t help you do whatever it is you’re going to with Alphys, so you hope they know you appreciate them without anything direct from you.

Alphys straightens her spin a bit. “This machine is the Q-CORDIS. The Quantum Heart. Well, actually the Latin word for heart, CORDIS, stands for Capillary Oscillating Resuscitation Device; Integrated SOUL, but that’s too much of a mouthful.” Alphys giggles without any real humor, more from nerves. She continues her tour-guide like walk and gestures. “Several of our brightest minds in the Underground built it as a way to study and better understand the SOUL. It shows us more than we’ve ever dreamed about before.” She walks closer to a platform on the machine that looks like a large scale. The shiny metal finish is almost reflective. “If you could, um, step over here, please? Yeah, just by yourself up here.”

The scale wobbles slightly when you step up and you’re surprised to see Undyne right there to hold you steady before she backs off. Arms folded, she stands near Alphys. A large tablet is in the yellow monster’s hands.

“The sensors around you will be able to scan your SOUL and tell us about it, about you I mean,” Alphys explains. “Like when you check someone in an encounter?”

You nod to show you understand. You’re forced to see the skeleton brothers and your sibling now. They stand in a cluster with Sans at the front. Instead of looking at their faces you choose to stare at their feet. One of Sans’s shoes is untied.

_Will this hurt her_? Frisk asks, projecting their voice across the room. Their hands move in tandem with the right signs.

“No, it shouldn’t,” Alphys says.

“BUT WE ALREADY KNOW HER STATS, DON’T WE?” Papyrus chimes in. His mouth is a straight line of focus and his brows push down over his eye sockets in a serious look. “THAT SORT OF INFORMATION IS PRIVATE, ALPHYS!”

“N-no, not really. We’ll see her SOUL trait and her stats…because they were a little, um, funny in the encounter…”

Papyrus crosses his arms. His face remains serious. Frisk has their hand hooked into his elbow. You can’t tell if they can see you from here, or not, though their eyes are staring in your direction.

If Papyrus’s face is serious, Sans is a stony mask.

“why don’t we see how it works on me first, then, eh?”

The monster looks anxious, torn between continuing her research and answering the question. There’s only so much time. From what Undyne said the other Royal Guards would be here to collect you and Frisk in only a few hours.

“Sans are you sure? I mean, uh, _he_ created the Q-CORDIS after all…”

The way Alphys emphasizes the sentence makes everyone in the room react differently. Undyne shares your confusion but Papyrus and Frisk look as uncomfortable as Alphys does. Sans, however doesn’t immediately react.

His eye sockets close and he sighs. The fake smile he’s got plastered on his skull makes your heart feel heavy. You want to run to him and hug him, you don’t know how else to make it better, but you don’t. You’re sure any sudden movement would be very bad news.

“i know gaster did, alphys. still offerin’.”

Gaster. That’s a name you know. You look at Alphys. “Wait, you mean WingDings? He made this?”

Sans is already walking towards you slowly to take your place on the platform. You can feel Undyne watching carefully. No one answers your question. A spark of cyan and yellow flares in Sans’s eye the closer he gets, but he isn’t looking at you, he’s focused on Undyne. She’d called another spear into existence when he moved, though she wasn’t using it.

“wouldja feel better if paps moved her, or what?” the skeleton asks her.

“Yep,” Undyne agrees curtly.

Sans looks at you then, one eye socket still flaring with magic. That makes your skin lift with goosebumps and your mouth get a bit dry. “blue magic time, sweets. don’t move. paps?”

Something heavy that had been sitting in your gut most of the day felt even heavier when he speaks to you. His voice is low, calming, but something wasn’t right. The damned smile on his skull isn’t _real_ and you want to call him out for it. He knows something is wrong, too. The warning signs of panic start under your skin but you search his face and feeling settles over you like a safety blanket.

You trust him.

Your hands started shaking but you trust him.

_You trust Sans._

So, you nod. You nod at him and tear your eyes from one set of eye sockets to another. Papyrus already has his hand raised and blue magic called to his gloved fingertips. You don’t move, not really, when he uses the magic to pull you toward him, but your hand purposefully brushes along the edge of Sans’s jacket while you float past.

You stay in that weightless bubble, arms wrapped around you now, floating between the Q-CORDIS and Papyrus as Sans steps forward. You don’t even try to hide how worried you are. Alphys flips controls, takes notes, and moves to stand next to a lever in the space of a minute. It seems to take less time than that. Your eyes are glued to Sans the whole time. His are closed and he’s breathing slowly.

You trust him.

You trust Sans.

You have to hold onto that for as long as you can.

_Stay determined_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fan-art](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/tagged/qcordis-fanart) || tumblr: [uwa-so-frisk](https://uwa-so-frisk.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Potential trigger warnings** : High tension/stress. No violence.
> 
> Hello! Welcome to a plot moving so much faster than planned I forgot to install safety belts. Hold onto your hats, the tension isn't done yet, but there will be quite a few ANSWERS next chapter:
> 
> Who was Gaster to Sans and Papyrus??  
> What's up with Reader's SOUL?  
> And maaaaybe even an answer to how to avoid certain death by Asgore! 8'D


End file.
